Three weeks in and I’m just over 6K, but I feel surprisingly good about it. I fully intend to hit 50K and have a complete, if rough story by the end of this month. It’s just taking time to get revved up. What’s happening is a couple of things, one is that I find it hard sometimes to get back to my computer the other is that I’m kind of unfolding the story as I go, and taking my time with it as much as I can. I fully expect to have to edit the hell out of this book after it’s finished this month, but I just can’t leave it completely alone. I have already gone back and tidied up several parts of it.

My daughter, it turns out, is a load of fun, she might even be my co-pilot while I finish Mollythis story. She likes to stay up in the wee hours, and has me reverting to my old night owl ways. So here I am, 2:42 AM, she just went to sleep but I just filled my coffee cup. She looks like an angel. This is as close as she will ever get to this story, except maybe in the dedication. It is quite amusing to myself and my girlfriend how cliche’s have abounded for us with this child. Neither of us were anti-children, but similarly, lifetimes of hearing others expound about their own children would have us groaning to listen to ourselves. Okay, all you people ahead of us in the birthing department, you were right. It’s miraculous, special, and something that has changed me entirely.

But, like I’ve said, this is a page about writing; This story needs to be finished, because like the lead 1st person character says, ‘it bears tellin’, and like him, maybe getting it out of my head will do some good.

Untold stories are like untreated wounds for me. I tend to search for the things that disturb us most, and keeping them inside can’t be healthy. I’m not going to be dramatic and say they are anything but other ideas floating around in my head, or that they need to be exorcised, but I always feel better when I get a point down, written, and am able to put it behind me.