Carjo is editing my stuff like…well, an angry editing demon. But she’s good so I should just shut the hell up and let her tear everything to shreds. I am going over her edit of the first chapter and re-entering it back into my laptop – it’s going surprisingly fast. So I feel good about the progress we’re making. This novel will get done yet.
It helps that we’re in the midst of what they call “a winter storm”. I say it’s not a storm until I can’t see the far side of the lake. Hell, I can even see the water tower. Carjo says I’d sing a different song if I was out in the country and driving. But I’m not so I’ll continue to be an elitist and say this is no storm. A winter storm to me is a blizzard.
We’ve got a birthday party to go to tonight but it’s only about a mile or two from here. This has been the fourth year we’ve gone to this party – they always have a fondue, which we know is pretty kitschy but a lot of fun. Plus the birthday boy is my kind of beer fanatic; he’s promising a special “mystery beer” for this occasion and I don’t think I’ll be disappointed.