Holidays, Hemingway, and the Home Stretch

Wow, it’s been almost a month since my last post. Sorry for dropping off the grid. Transitioning between jobs takes a lot of time and energy. But I’ve finally left my old position and look forward to starting the new one in January. New year, new challenges (and a much improved commute, which will free up writing time)!

Until then, I’m cherishing a few weeks off over the holidays. Taking naps, reading, catching up on my British crime dramas…yeah, right! I’ve had my bum in the computer chair every morning, cracking away at Blue Karma. I finished chapter eighteen this morning. Only three more and the epilogue to go. I’m sliding towards home, my fingers inches from the plate (I love baseball analogies). And I’m determined to finish by the end of the year, so the suicide squeeze is on!

A few nights ago, I commented to the Laddie that I was up to 250 pages. “Wow,” he said, with that wicked dry smile that makes me want to kiss him and smack him upside the head simultaneously. “That’s almost a book.”

He gave me too much credit: to be accurate, it’s almost the complete draft of a book. It’ll need a lot of work before it’s in any fit state to publish. There are still little clusters of ellipses where I got stuck on a transition and jumped ahead; threads I dreamed up halfway through the story that need tying in to the early chapters; notes to myself in bracketed red text, containing brilliant authorial insights like [[how do you drive a boat??? look it up!!!]]. As Ernest Hemingway reminds us, in a quip I long ago adopted as my writing mantra,


But hey, you’ve got to start somewhere.

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