Seven months from today I’ll be 30.
Last night Paul and I watched some tivo’d episodes of “AB Fab” and the one episode where Paul felt would be reflective of me is when Edina turns 40. He says her attitude is very reminiscent of what I’ll be like when I turn 30, or maybe when I do turn 40.
Rob and I had met for lunch yesterday at a Mexican place close to the vet, which timed out very well since I had go pick up Pugsley yesterday afternoon. I love our vet, even if they are nearly 1/2 hour away, they are open on the weekend for neuters. Pugsley returned home minus his balls and five teeth, and I returned home stuffed on Mexican food.
The talk turned to NaNoWriMo and my writing of the novel. Rob got very serious about literary criticism which wholly made me doubt what I had written. So last night for a few hours I went over what I had written and denounced it as such crap, I plan on re-writing it. I had this lovely idea in my head on what I wanted only to discover that I couldn’t finish it at the current state it was going through.
Last night in bed I half-awake mused that if I rewrote the first three chapters and pounded out 5k a words a night, I could finish the novel in 10 days, leaving me nine days of freedom.
Don’t think I won’t do this.