The last few bits of book have been taking their sweet time shaking through my fingers–mostly due to October being busier than expected, and to Bob and me both getting that miserable cold that’s been going around Lonesome Valley. (No, it’s not H1N1, but the way it spread around the mountains, I was momentarily concerned that it might be Captain Trips…)
Now I’m done with the sniffles, and returning to the book nightly, which has led me down the road to pulp-lit responsibility, and perhaps more importantly, toward a closer facsimile of psychological health.
This is in part due to the fact that, while I’m lost in the world of my book, I have less time to update my personal budget–something that’s better done in short panic-stricken bursts.
Returning to the project, even after such a brief hiatus, has changed things, too: Until now, I’d been regarding the book as something that I needed to get done, so I could be free to embrace the unadulterated Lonesome Valley experience. Now I’m realizing this was the wrong way to think about things: I doubt I’d be able to take the glare of fact without the UV-protection Ray-Bans of fiction.
So it’s only this book I’m looking to finish, and once it’s truly done (some drafts from now, probably), I won’t be taking up tobogganing–I’ll be plunging headlong into other writing/brain-shielding efforts.
Anything to put some distance between me and that mean old OpenOffice ledger…
Gothic Toaster 