That brings us to a nice 37,000 words, and 185 pages. Maybe two more writing days to a vacation. OMG. (Yeah, my vacations look like other people's weekends. Such is life.)
It's very good to be back in the saddle again. I haven't written a whole new book since Chill, and it's amazng how much of my self-identity is locked up in being somebody who produces new novel-length stories.
Now, I get to eat some lunch and drink some tea and goof off until it's time to go climb. Then I shall come home and work a bit more, I expect, until Criminal Minds. The last new one for a while.
It's almost the end of the Naughties. I still have hopes of making the decade name catch on. After all, once we're out of it, we'll need something to call it....
(Yes, I know technically speaking 2010 is part of the same decade, but functionally? It's not. Nobody refers to 1970 as "the sixties." The map is not the territory, and trying to make the way people interact with reality conform to an ideal results in such crowning successes as, oh, Esperanto.)