Wild Cards story draft done (a little over 10K words) and sent to George and he only had to ask me for it three times and it was only two months overdue and GAH. I feel so unprofessional, but I really got totally stalled out on this story, and I don’t even know why — once I actually started writing, each time, it went FINE.
I mean, there are ten things I want to fix about it already, and I’m sure the Spanish is a MESS, but that’s what the second draft is for, and I’d better wait for his notes because sometimes George makes me kill off major characters or otherwise chops the story up in unexpected ways. (He always makes it better, though. He’s an excellent editor.)
And now, I am very tired, and I have to be up at 7 to get Anand to the bus, and I somehow ended up making leftover turkey soup in between scenes tonight, which has hopefully cooled enough that I can put it in the fridge now. It’s not actually done, but it’s at a good pausing point; I kind of want to experiment with it tomorrow. But first, the refrigeration, and then, the sleeping.
I am very very relieved to finally have this story drafted.
“I’m sorry, abuelita. I can’t help you.” Jesús sat back on his heels and shook the loose dirt off his hands, careful not to shake too hard. Wouldn’t want to lose a finger. They didn’t usually drop off that easily, but still, best to be careful. “Lo siento.”