Chugging along, chugging along. The story is pretty much plotted out, so it’s mostly just laying down words, which goes pretty fast. Going to pause for a stretch and a bit of sewing, then do another 10 minutes on the treadmill, get warmed up and get my brain moving a little more, then more writing?
Hopefully at least one more writing stint tonight; getting to 6000 seems eminently do-able now, maybe even 7000? Which would just leave 18,000 for tomorrow, ha ha ha. At 1000 words an hour, that’s just barely do-able, if I do nothing else from morning to night…
If you’re panicking on my behalf, don’t worry, really. I don’t ACTUALLY have to make it to 25,000 — that’s how many words I have allocated, but if I get to the end of the story in 20,000 words, I’m sure that’ll be fine. I hope so, anyway…and if I get to 20,000 and I’m still not done and it’s midnight tomorrow, I’m going to take another day, and George and Melinda will forgive me. I won’t be the first late writer they’ve had to deal with…)
She hesitated, then said, “But there is something I’d like to speak with Reggie about, and it’s a rather personal matter…”
“Say no more! Discretion above all is the code of the Chelliahs, and even if I did marry Reginald, I will be a Chelliah until I die.”
That had been something of a point of irritation with Reggie’s mother, in fact, that I didn’t use his name. Lady Srilatha Chelliah was apparently not quite correct, but she, and the rest of England, would just have to get used to it. “I will away to the kitchens, and return imminently!”
A brisk walk was a tonic against all ills, my father always said. I hurried away, boots clipping across the verandah tiles, careful not to turn and look behind.