I’m halfway through Chapter 21 of the book, and according to my casual (very casual) outline, there will be 25 chapters. Today I surpassed 250 pages, which blows my mind, and am getting close to the minimum number of words I wanted to rack-up.
So, it’s going well, I suppose. I didn’t meet my goal today, which kinda bothers me, but it snowed this morning and everything was delayed. So, at least I have a good excuse. Right?
More importantly, I think the story is holding up, and it’s pretty funny, overall. I hope I’m not fooling myself, but I feel good about it. And as most of you probably know, that’s not like me.
I want to have it finished by Friday night, so I can spend Saturday with the family. That’s been the goal from the start. But if I have to go into the weekend, I’ll do it. The first draft of the book WILL be finished before I go back to work on Sunday.
I will return to that place with a completed novel under my belt, even if I blow a hole in the side of my brainstem doing it.
Last Sunday I went to the University of Scranton library, because they’re open until midnight, and I knew I could log some serious hours there. I think the local public library is only open three hours on Sunday. And what’s the point of that?
I got a lot of work done there, but felt like Chester the Molester sitting in the middle of all those 18 and 19 year old students. Many of them were wearing pajamas, basically, which made me feel even pervier. None of them acted like they noticed me, but I felt conspicuous, nonetheless. So, I didn’t go back.
I’ve been spending entire days at the public library instead, from about 9:30 am until around 8:30 pm. I only come out for a Wendy’s #1 with cheese, no pickles, and a Coke, at 1:00, and a large coffee at Starbucks at 5:00. I have dinner at 9:00, at home. And that’s been the schedule all week.
It’s weird, man. When I get away from that library for a little while it seems like I’m inside a book. When I walk to the counter at Starbucks, it feels like I’m writing the scene, not living it. And it’s freaky.
So anyway, that’s the status. Next week I’ll be back to the normal posting schedule here. I appreciate you sticking with me through all this. Thank you for the support, as always!
I mentioned that we got a little snow today — enough to close the schools and delay the opening of the library. But it also triggered a decent Question of the Day, I think.
This morning Toney told me she wanted to shovel the driveway, by herself. She said she’d take her iPod out there, and get a good workout. Sounded good to me, but all kinds of red flags were going up.
“Tomorrow you’re not going to throw this in my face, are you?” I wanted to know.
Because, you see, she brings up an incident from 2002 or 2003, involving snow shoveling, every freaking winter. Supposedly I drove over the snow (didn’t shovel), and left it for her, on a day she had a sinus infection.
I have no recollection of this event, none whatsoever, but she sure does. It’s become the gold standard: the event against which all other insensitive events are measured. I don’t remember it, but will never live it down.
So, I’d like to know if you have any similar events in your background, which will never die with your spouse or significant other. If so, tell us about it in the comments.
And for the record, I let Toney shovel for a while by herself, then went out and helped. Hey, I’m not a complete idiot.
Have a great weekend, my friends.