On Remembrance Day this year after 11 am I started writing. By 5:30 p.m. after taking two breaks--one to bake cookies the other to take Elmo for a walk--I had 920 words down. Oh, and don't think a little thing like a 33 minute power failure stopped me either. My trusty boy Mac kept running on battery and the glow from his ultra bright screen was enough to not make my eyes get too weary.
I have three pages down. I need to complete about seven for my class assignment by Sunday night, the results of which I think will end up being Chapter 1 of something sizeable. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna do it and I'm going to go to the Good-Wooden Leg Dinner and Dance on Saturday, start reading that novel for the book club Amara and I have organized and that I will host on December 13, go through that pile of clothes I don't wear anymore and get them out of my spare room, get back into my gym routine that I started last week but dropped after destroying something in my left calf muscle, and then I'm going to do something about world peace because today I am just a bottomless barrel of ambition.
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