The Novel Diary: Week 25
Word count: 30,607 (total).
No novel writing last week or this week. However, on Sunday I will begin Chapter 6 in earnest with a newfound (maybe) resolve to stay dedicated and on track. What track? Whatever track will be laid as go.
Happy Fourth, everybody. Today I returned from a wedding in Chicagoland with Bobblehead and his Missus so it does not feel like a holiday. It feels like a nothing special, return-trip Sunday. However, it is a hell of a lot better than my Fourth two years ago, when I was trapped in my apartment. As always seemed to happen on the Fourth in Huntington Beach, the surf hicks hatched from their eggs tucked away inside the protective eaves and corners of the city and swarmed Main Street and the downtown area in a drunken revelry. It was the reason why I left SoCal on July 3 last year. I did not want to deal with that shit and spent the holiday in Cortez, Colorado, watching the municipal fireworks from behind the hotel. No macho surfers. No scantly clad beach blondes. No water balloons being shot by idiots at a party on Detroit. It was a welcome sign of things to come.
No novel writing last week or this week. However, on Sunday I will begin Chapter 6 in earnest with a newfound (maybe) resolve to stay dedicated and on track. What track? Whatever track will be laid as go.
Happy Fourth, everybody. Today I returned from a wedding in Chicagoland with Bobblehead and his Missus so it does not feel like a holiday. It feels like a nothing special, return-trip Sunday. However, it is a hell of a lot better than my Fourth two years ago, when I was trapped in my apartment. As always seemed to happen on the Fourth in Huntington Beach, the surf hicks hatched from their eggs tucked away inside the protective eaves and corners of the city and swarmed Main Street and the downtown area in a drunken revelry. It was the reason why I left SoCal on July 3 last year. I did not want to deal with that shit and spent the holiday in Cortez, Colorado, watching the municipal fireworks from behind the hotel. No macho surfers. No scantly clad beach blondes. No water balloons being shot by idiots at a party on Detroit. It was a welcome sign of things to come.
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