So, it's just gone 9pm, and I've struggled over the finish line, at 54,037 words.
I have 123 pages in front of me, hot out of the printer. I will bind this, and probably never look at it again. The story might be salvageable. I dunno. Can't think about it now.
I do feel like doing some celebratory eating.
Speaking of celebratory eating, I went down to North Carolina for Thanksgiving. My sister has a house down there, and so we all (my brother and his girlfriend, my mom, and my sister and her kids) congregated for food and Phase 10. I am pretty crap with babies, as my four month old nephew demonstrated. He's adorable, but given to vomiting. Or maybe that's just in my imagination. My seven year old nephew is capable of full conversations at this point. My sister's house is never, ever silent.
On thanksgiving day a couple of my sister's friends came over, a ranking officer who was to deploy to Iraq in a matter of hours, his wife, a medic in the army who would deploy in two weeks, and their young daughter. I watched them laugh and talk, while feeling...fear, I guess it was...for them at the back of my throat. Families must be saying goodbye all the time. I don't know how they deal with that life. I deal with it in part, I worry for my sister and I worry for her boys.
I'm seeing what I can cook up for December, project-wise. There's going to be something. Jodes and I are meeting tomorrow to plot and plan.
Congratulations, all you writers.
jules
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