Holy Moly, the Sun Came Out!

Ooh-ooh-ooh! It’s stopped raining! The sun came out!

I’d better get out there and start writing. It won’t be long now before the cold weather sets in and the ink won’t run from my pen (yes, I’ve actually tried to writing on days that cold–and that’s what happened), and I have a book I’ve got to finish.

Phoebe mentioned being as busy as a hamster spinning in a wheel, so here are some busy hamsters for you to contemplate. How come they don’t get dizzy when they do this? Sixty seconds of this stuff and I don’t think a human being would ever recover from it. This deserves serious study.

Ah, Behold! What a time I’ve had with you! It wasn’t till near the end of May that the weather allowed me to start work on you–a whole month lost, right out of the batter’s box. And I still don’t know what anybody in the story is going to behold.

Nevertheless, I am being pulled along willy-nilly, the current’s strong and I can’t swim against it–and, as Jackie Gleason used to say, awaaaay we go!

Nope, No Novel-Writing Today

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It’s dark and dreary, raining cats and dogs, damp and cold (man, that makes my leg hurt!)–no novel-writing today. Yeah, I know the rain is part of nature, too. But you can’t write on paper that’s getting rained on. Nor do I wish to acquire a touch of pneumonia.

Yesterday I wrote six pages of Behold! and Wednesday, five. I am being strongly pulled along–to what kind of climax, I don’t know yet. I reckon I’ve got at least one more chapter set to write, a little more than 10,000 words; and it’s got to get done before the cold weather sets in and the ink won’t run out of the pen.

But not today, ol’ hoss–not today. I can always write Joe Collidge, and there’s a book I have to review for Chalcedon. There’s also the temptation to go back to bed. My cats advise it. H.P. Lovecraft always listened to his cats. But then he was eccentric and I’m not.