That was actually me at the Austin Women’s March, the lurching ahead thing. I had a cane with four little cushioned feet. And needed it. I am not as spry, had been sick earlier in the week (er…wasn’t OVER being sick, either!) and instead of being in the 70s and partly cloudy, the sun came out full on just before the march started, and it shot up to about 90-something. It was a great march; I didn’t make it the whole way, but I made some of it, enough to know I’d put out all the effort I had.
But INTO THE FIRE is now over 125,000 words. Progress forward has slowed because I’m rearranging. In my “process” (a word that suggests far more rationality in the choice of what to do and where to go next than I actually achieve!) whenever I get stuck I start a different scene that’s been perking along but doesn’t necessarily belong right there, where I was when I started writing it. It used to be that I wrote in chapters, all wandering around from maybe 4500 to 6000 words…short-story length, though they were clearly not stories in themselves. Awhile back (not sure when) I started trying to form longer strings. It’s not as smooth in some ways, but in others the lack of chapter markings along the way allows things to be the length they need. What’s much harder is finding things. It’s much easier to remember that the chapter where the rhinoceros charges a beehive and ends up with sticky honey on his horn, and then rubs his horn in the gravel and it’s not ordinary gravel but jewels and now he’s got a jeweled horn…is chapter ‘low twenties’ if not the exact number, than to remember that it’s page 437 in a manuscript with no internal markers.