For the first time in thirteen years, I have completed a novel. It’s a first draft, only one hundred twenty-one pages, and it’ll need some more work before it becomes publishable (if at all. I’m going to have a hell of a time convincing someone to look at a tale of friendship, betrayal, reputation economies and intelligent sex toys), but I’m done and it feels good. Now, on to something else while this story, entitled The Right People, ages in a desk drawer for edits and brickbats.