Superfluousity because I CAN
OK -- so everybody knows I just went through a microdochectomy and I'm sore as fuck. that still doesn't stop mighty streams of nothingness from working their way through the lakebed which is my brain LOL
I feel that through the physical suffering I can acheive some kind of creative plateau, if you will. So -- it's back to the manuscript, for me. 
One of the parts in my book deals with the use of dough as a performance art tool; or as the essence of the piece.... whatever. In any event, don't ever fucking try to research the use of dough as a performance art medium; as you will be equally disappointed.
(I mean -- it's not like my character is running around the story with sophisticated, wireless, power tools and trying to recreate Shakespeare -- are there no dough-based chronicles to be found?) LMAO
I suppose if I can find a way to stop obsessing about the spatial relationship between food and the pantries it gets stored in, my publisher can finally put out some copies of this madness.
BAKED-OFF is pure fun; and I've been through Hell and back trying to get it finished. Surgery, house hunting, writers' block --- you name the distraction. Still, I write -- and I believe with everything I know that the serious nature of these times call for pure absurdity in high-artistic construct. Know then, that I am devoted to writing stories for you; that are wrapped and warm in the gossamer blanket of such absurdity. :D
