It's not actually a draft. But I'm calling it one. Because I have all the pieces of the thing that will eventually become a book: they're just in the wrong order and inside out and some clever things and what that boy I like calls "grace notes" are still to arrive. But I've gotten a whole narrative arc, at least... even if some of it isn't exactly written yet.
Because at this point, I know what I need to do. Which is, more or less, punt: stop writing forward, print the novel out, and begin the hard task of revising it into something that will eventually become the publishable manuscript. Or, to put it another way... it's time to take this sort of helter-skelter pile of novel bits and build an actual house out of it.
Which I may then drop on the nearest witch with stripy socks, which in this case would be me.
Let the post-novel ennui commence!
Hey, I've been meaning to catch up on Mythbusters and Flashpoint.
i must admit you kind of bore me
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