So I completed a story this morning. At 12,500 words it’s another novelette, of course. I think I’m now pathologically incapable of telling a story under 10,000 words. (That’s wrong, of course. One of my last four has been an honest-to-goodness short story, but let’s not bring truth or data into it.)
I’ve titled it LisAnne Tyner and the Window of Time, which is an okay title unless something better comes along in the next day or two. I think there’s a better title in me somewhere.
Looking back over the past month I’ve completed about 30,000 words of what I think is pretty good, final-draft fiction–about a K a day overall. I think I’ve had only two days where I didn’t get anything put on paper, and one of those I was travelling to Ohio with the family. I think that qualifies me as being able to honestly say I’m back in the saddle again.
Pretty cool.