In Which I Offer Some Updates.

When I got home last night, before I had written a word, I checked my voice mail and found two messages from fellow Wrimos, both proudly announcing they had made their word count for the day.

I did not call them back.

Gene Wolfe once asserted that "You never learn how to write a novel. You only learn how to write the novel you're on." But I think that, to a limited extent, there are things about novel-writing that you can learn once and be done with: things that have to do with trusting your gut and valuing your work and writing through the rough spots.

I hate to jinx my success so far by projecting it into the future, but the solid, gleaming fact remains: despite my fears, I managed to write 2154 words in about three hours last night. It felt good.

The amazing Mystical Tree has grown far more foliage than the packaging would lead one to expect. Best $2.25 plus tax I've spent in a long time. It sits in my kitchen, lumpy and improbably green, like fairy broccoli. I don't dare touch the boughs; one clump has already fallen under its own weight, and others are sagging. The trunk is ridged with frost-white fuzz. The instructions say that if its foliage gets broken, it will grow back if more water is added. I am tempted to add more anyway, just to see how overgrown it can get before it collapses.

Yesterday I added a yousendit link for "Clumsy Dance" into Sunday's post. Here it is in case you missed it. (Warning: I named it that for a reason.)

I also replaced the written sound effects in my first post with an illustration.