Time flies.

Words fly, too. I have written a book.

Well, I have written what could be a book. Right now, what I have is an 80,000 word manuscript of something. It’s not a book yet; there are too many edits and revisions to make, too many plot holes to seam shut. But it will be a book.

The weird, spindly trees in our front yard have turned–one gold, one red. I love this time of year; I’m gearing up for a windy, hopefully cold Halloween, and then in November I’m going to forget about NaNoWriMo and write on my own schedule, and look forward to Thanksgiving and colder days (or as cold as they get down here).


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