3312 words today, and the (very bad) draft of Seven for a Secret is done, done, done. It's surfacy and flawed and arbitrary. But it's finished, and I can fix all that stuff later. It's 115 pages long, exactly as it should be.
So. happy. To. Be. Done.
Sebastien claims he just does the heroics for the monkeys. The monkeys get so invested in such transitory things.
I guess I get to climb tonight after all.
And no more (&^%(*& new fiction to write until after 4th Street. Woo!