With a new job that requires a 120-mile round trip daily, I’m in the market for a new car, one that holds on to gas like an old woman hoards cats. Car shopping typically is about as much fun as doing your taxes. But this time around, things are different.
Damned if I know what it is, but something keeps bringing me back online to write. Dadlibbing started here and then moved here, but those platforms felt … not for me. I’m a writer, see, so I write. That means I don’t need a package that lets me post a YouTube video with blazing speed or email a post for publishing while I’m driving.