I am writing to you on this, the 31st day of October, with the solemn knowledge that this, perhaps, shall be the very last day, in a great deal of time to follow, that I will be mentally and physically stable to write anything at all--ever again.
Sanity is, to say the very least, during this coming month of November, highly likely to depart for regions so far away they could not possibly be there.
I will be dropping off the face of the planet, as well as off cyber-space, and will be...how did you ever guess--writing...again!
November, as many of you know, is National Novel Writing Month...my friends talked me in to it. (so if I die, may it all be in the line of faithfully submitting to their torturous pleas to my tender heart, it shall be made clear that it is all their fault)
But I suppose it is all my doing in the end. I signed any future I had away when I became a writer. So goes the quote, "If writers were good businessmen, they'd have too much sense to be writers." I've doomed myself to a life of scandalous adventures and killing off people whom I love most terribly, and torturing my favorite heroes and heroines.
But my point is namely this:
Do not be too concerned about my loving blog if I never come back again. It will be here for you to look at in my memory, and weep tears of mortal sorrow over (if it so worth weeping over).
So farewell, my beloved friends, my ship leaves around midnight tonight. I shall wave to you from the dock for I shall dreadfully miss you all! Some of you, I know, shall be along with me, and that gives me great consolation!
I am very truly yours,