Yesterday was an unbelievable writing day. One for my personal record book. I did 2,854 words on Chapter Ten of Daughter of Hounds and came, I think, within 500-800 words of THE END. I'd hoped to finish, but at 7:30 Spooky told me it was time to stop and have dinner. I was far beyond exhausted. I'm still exhausted this morning, after eight and a half hours of sleep. Reading it all back to Spooky, what I wrote yesterday, I almost started crying. Part of that was being so tired, but part of it was the story and seeing that my time with these characters, at least for now, is almost at an end. It will be finished with today. And sure, even after that "finish" there will be a mountain of work left to do on this ms., but that's not the same. It will have happened, this book. It will have been written, and all the rest is merely window dressing and fine tuning and a little tuck and fold here and there. I have fallen in love with Soldier and Emmie and the Daughter of the Four of Pentacles, and it will be a long time before the immediacy of their story is gone from my mind.
Even knowing what I'll do next, what story I'll write when Daughter of Hounds is done, I feel like I have no idea what I'll do with myself when this novel is finished.
Last night, only half conscious, I watched three more episodes of The Outer Limits ("The Mutant," "The Guests," and "Fun and Games").
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There are several very patient people whom I owe e-mails, and I wish I could say that I was going right this minute to write them, but first I have to find THE END.
P.S. — Spooky just found a 1918 wheat penny in our drive.