I’m at that awkward stage in a book where the end is in sight – less than 20,000 words to go – and yet it also seems just beyond reach. The pace of the story is accelerating, as all stories should at this point, and I feel like a crazed fanatic running to keep up with it. Today, July 13, as I was madly paying bills so that I could get to the writing, I wrote the date on a check and then woefully lamented to my husband, “Ahhh! My mom’s birthday was yesterday and I didn’t call her!!!”
Here’s the thing. My mother’s birthday is June 12, and the very erroneous date my frazzled brain directed my hand to write on the check.
Sheesh. Nobody ask me anything important until this book is done.
So today, for your viewing pleasure, I thought you would enjoy seeing what my awesome hairdresser has in her front yard. A chair with a succulent seat. Ain’t it grand? Her husband Steve, a whiz with a green thumb, made it. I shan’t go near it until the book is done or I might actually sit on it while calling my big sister to wish her a happy Bar Mitzvah.
See you Monday. Maybe.