the pieces of my life

I’m having a hard time dragging myself off to bed. I want to revel in my 50,000 wordness.

I’m doin’ a jig, I’m doin’ a jig. Because 50,565 is such a wonderful place to be. So what if there are massive gaps, huge plot problems, and disappearing characters? I have a beginning. I have a very long and dragged out middle. And–surprise!–there is an end. An actual end. My novel is done.

And I have no idea what the hell I am going to do with all this free time I will suddenly have. Maybe I should start another…?

It’s my bed time. 10 p.m. And I’ve had too much red wine. BUT I CAN’T QUIT NOW! I don’t care if don’t go to bed, I’m about to kill off my protagonist’s love interest and I have just a mere 865 words to go!! No sleep for the novelists!! I feel like I need to run around the block or something to work off this energy. I’m feeling very sad about killing off this love interest. I’ve grown rather fond of him. As I told Adam, if it weren’t for the fact that this character is going to die, I might consider leaving Adam for him.

Home stretch territory. My spelling and grammar have become atrocious. I can’t remember even the simplest words until I see Word correcting them for me. At this points, it appears only Maria, from writing group, and I are the only ones in running to finish this thing. Spent this morning shopping (two pairs of comfy Fernley shoes, plus some holiday presents for my friends) and this afternoon and evening writing, writing, writing. Word count: 45,935. The end is in sight (although Adam just pointed out to me that I originally wrote “site,” which just proves my point about the spelling. When you are writing for speed, nothing counts but the number of words on the page).

Oh did you see that? That was my “I hit 40,000” dance. Do-do-do, I’m dancing, I’m dancing. Actually, I’m at 40,907 and I’m calling it a night. Tomorrow, I plan to buy sensible shoes for Fernley and to hit at least 45,000. I can do this. Oh, yes I can. Now, to go back to my dancing. Good night!

Everyone in my novel shrugs too much. She shrugged, he shrugged, and for a change, he grinned and shrugged. These people must have amazing shoulder muscles.

I’m not out of this yet: 30,352. And a pie, a cake, and three kinds of cranberry sauce. Not too shabby a day. Tomorrow, though, I will go to the gym, cook a turkey, and plow through my word count.

I’m behind on the novel, but I’ve at least passed the halfway point: 27,090 words. I’m still not sure where it’s all going, but it’s still going. Embracing the “quanity not quality” has really helped me get the words down, but I know what a mess it is. Tenses are changing mid-paragraph, the narrator keeps showing up and then disappearing, there are scenes with great big holes in them. If toward the end I’m low on words, there are a lot of places I could go back and add descriptions and scenes that I’ve ignored for now, because I didn’t feel like writing them. My cold is pretty much over, which is making it much easier to get to this. I find the Walkman with the Israeli music really helps me set my scene.

Now that the main rush for holiday is done at work, I can start to close projects out and begin learning things in my new position. I’m quite excited to be starting something new, and while it may only be mid-November, the beginning of January feels incredibly close, and there’s so much I’d like to get done before I move on. If I had any doubts about changing positions, that’s over now that so many folks are leaving work. I was really shocked by Friday’s announcement, but I guess I shouldn’t have been. I think everyone was surprised at first, but when they thought about it for a little bit, it made perfect sense. But with so much of the original team going (even if they were in other departments, they were still there), there’s little left to stay for. I’m appreciative that he got me out of my old job before moving on. Everyone seems to hit their five year anniversary and then pack their bags. Actually, more and more folks aren’t even making it to their five-year point. So few people left remember the Columbia building. The majority of folks left never even worked there, never had to share a cubicle or have any idea what a bunk-desk is. They don’t remember the strange smells on the mezzanine or the old printed phone list with everyone’s home numbers. Now it’s all blue shirts and khaki pants and modern offices.

Speaking of blue shirts and khaki pants (and my new career), Adam and I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday (yes, I will shop there) and I picked up Why We Buy, a book on “the science of shopping.” I made Adam walk in front of me in case I saw anyone I knew–I didn’t want to be seen in the business section, nevermind picking up books such as The Portable Marketing MBA. Anyway, I’m really enjoying it–a fast read. Lots of this stuff is plain old common sense that I had never even thought about. It’s giving me ideas for my next novel… (As if. After this one, I may never write again!)

Being sick is not condusive to writing a novel. Now I’m way behind. Haven’t written for two days. Probably won’t write tomorrow either, given my schedule. It’s gonna be a major writing weekend.