I’d carry on the whole Lost Weekend things here but, in all honesty, I’m pretty sure that the pills the doctor gave me for my back are placebos.
(Gracias, Doctor Placebo Domingo.)
Spent most of the day working through the Second Draft today, finished up Book Three — which turned out to be a lot better than I expected.
Talking to my dad a few nights ago, he asked if I was just polishing at this point.
Yeah. If wishing made it so, huh?
See, you know how when you let things go for a week or so around the house? Stuff doesn’t get picked up as often as it should, the pile of mail by the door gets bigger, dishes start stacking up, you keep pushing the laundry down in the hamper until it’s as solid as concrete?*
And then, one bright Saturday morning, you look around and say “Yeah, I better clean house today.”
But before you can clean, really clean, you have to do pre-cleaning. You can’t just jump in and start throwing the vacuum around. You actually have to clean before you can clean.
That’s more or less what I’m doing right now in the Second Draft.
Tonight I’m starting on Book Four. The home stretch.
About a month ago, I set a deadline to finish the second draft by my birthday.
Seven days left and about fifty thousand words to go.
I’ve clocked my progress so far at about 1,000 words an hour — this is transcribing/editing mode, mind — which means that I need to write about seven or eight hours a day in order to finish on time.
Again, if wishing made it so.
We’ll see how it goes.
Time to write now…
—————————-
* In about two days, this will be exactly what my house looks like.