50,000 Words

OK, it’s actually 50,023 words, and the novel is NOT done!  I am celebrating, though I don’t have a pie.  It was going to be a cherry-peach pie from my favorite pie shop in Estes Park, but it’s too cold and too windy to trek up there, whine whine whine . . . .  Luckily, I am apparently part Scottish, so I am “making do” with a drop of The Macallan, cask strength (59.3% alcohol), with just a hint of water.  Water of life, right?

What I learned this month:

1.  The New York Times is right — the English language is hard to destroy.  But then again, I may have to change my mind if, say, Sarah Palin were actually to write her own book …

2.  You can’t write if you don’t show up for work.  I am perhaps most proud of the fact that I did not miss a writing day — although it is also true that some of those writing days were spent in bed, with sustenance brought to me at appropriate intervals by my loving family :-))

3.  A little single malt Scotch helps make new neuronal pathways — trust me, I’m a doctor.  A trained professional.

4.  Write in a style with which you are most comfortable.  I tend not to be interested in fiction written less than a hundred years ago — show me a book from the high Victorian era and I am a happy camper.

5.  But because of (4) above, this novel is anything but tightly plotted (oh, wait, the motto was “No plot, no problem,” right?) or tightly written.  Fortunately, it is also true that you cannot revise what you have not written.

Is it happy hour yet?

Opie the Winter Guinea Pig

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