I will not be posting a new chapter of NM Noir tonight, because I posted one on Saturday. After this, I will be back on schedule. But speaking of this online book I’m attempting to write, I keep wondering if I’m insane. Is it insane to post a serial novel online without editing and only for the fun of it? Would you do it? A good friend of mine insisted that it was experimental fiction and that made it exciting. Do you agree with my friend? Sometimes, I lay in bed, unable to sleep (actually, I never really sleep, being a chronic insomniac) and waves of panic roll through my body for no particular reason. And then I invent all kinds of reasons to panic, one of which includes whatever I have posted online.
On another note, this is a serious writing week for me. My husband has the week off, scheduled from months ago in order to go to a family reunion that we are now unable to attend. He has promised me as much writing time as possible so that I can make that pull through to the end of my book. Today was a difficult day, as it was the only day my husband asked that I not take for my writing holiday, so that he could help put up the trusses on our house. Although we do have a contractor, any extra help gets the job done faster. Plus, I would guess that he wants to have a hand in building his own house. So, in between running children hither and yon, I managed to log about 3000 words. Oh, by the way, the trusses look fantastic–you know, a roof with little bits of sky peeping through. How are you doing in reaching your goals? Are you as impatient as I am? Those of you who read my earlier summer goals will automatically recognize my impatience (originally, I was to finish a rough draft by the end of summer. Now I want to finish a revised draft.)
I have future writing goals, even if they are a bit more vague. I have an image, actually, the image of a man sleeping on the bus. He isn’t a nice man, and I don’t know what his story is yet, except that I keep thinking of the the two thieves who were crucified with Jesus. That story chokes me up every time because it contains the essence of Christianity: Christ promised the one thief that he would be with him that day in paradise, not for any good deed that he’d done to make penance for his crimes, but because he feared God and recognized Christ as his savior. The other thief did not. What does that have to do with the man on the bus? I don’t know. Maybe I need to figure out which thief he is. And that is about the closest I will ever get to preaching.
All in good time, I keep telling myself. Calm down; be patient. I’m trying. I really am.