A moment ambushed today that I really wasn’t expecting. I finished writing, editing, and revising draft number ten of April Showers 1921. 

I’d finished writing the novel, and it ‘felt’ correct, a coherent and complete tapestry of time, characters, settings, events, and story.

I was pretty damn astonished. Just like reading an entertaining book, writing a book that entertains me leaves me breathless and lost, wanting more while processing, it’s over. It’s good. It’s done.

Draft number ten is a hefty boy, let me tell you, six hundred ten pages in MS Word, one hundred eighty thousand plus words. It’d required eight months, my gosh, almost to the date I’d officially started it after a dream in early January. I’d first mentioned it in a January 27, 2019 post. Eight months of thinking about it, writing, revising, researching, editing, processing, and editing, revising, and re-writing again and again. It’s odd and startling to realize that I’ve written all those pages in that time, and doesn’t count all those pages that’ve been removed during the revising process. It was just such a short spurt of time, and just a few hours each day of typing.

Now, I’m contemplating, what do I do with myself? This is my writing time, but I’ve finished writing the novel. It’s like getting out of school early. Such possibilities! Should I go eat? Well, I’m not hungry; this is my writing time. Tell someone? Well, of course, I posted this, to share with my online friends. Many of you are writers and appreciate the satisfaction of writing and finishing. I think you, of all, will most understand, and have been quite supportive.

I suppose I’ll take a break today, and then return tomorrow, and start going through my notes to confirm that I’m not leaving something out there hanging. Then…well, we’ll see.

But, um, yeah, I guess I’m done writing like crazy for today.



Infloofsitive (floofinition) – Curious pet or animal who can’t resist inspecting and examining objects and sounds.

In use: “All the pets were infloofsitive, but the little miniature Border Collie, Sassy, and the elegant Russian Blue feline, Jazmine, were the two who always got up, padded into the other room to see what was going on, and then returned, notifying the rest that the end is not nigh after all.”

A Changing House Dream

I dreamed that I was outside somewhere. Late afternoon, the sky was a deep azure and completely cloud free. It seemed to be a festival. Many people were there, but I didn’t know them.

Celebrations had been going on. I felt tremendous, — relieved, relaxed, and happy. I was celebrating an achievement after a long effort. As part of that, though, I’d also changed houses, selling one house, and buying a new one. Today, I would take ownership of my new house. I was looking forward to that with excitement. Meanwhile, though, I was enjoying this festival.

The festival, which had some food booths, was located alongside a lengthy bluff. Beyond the bluff was the blue, majestic ocean. Calm, powerful, and deep-looking, sunlight splashed on the waves like tiny diamonds were being spread over the water. As the day ended, the organizers were showing a movie outdoors. I’d been about to leave, but decided to stay to see what the movie was. After the opening scenes, I recognized an old hit movie, something from the late eighties or early nineties, that was really just so-so. I decided that I didn’t want to see it again, so I began heading indoors. As I went, almost everyone else made the same decision.

I was going to a large, modern, white building. It seemed to be a luxury hotel. As I went, I had a thick magazine about houses in my hand. It was a glossy, colorful production about great places to live in the area, and so on. In the middle was a tear-out section. Made of thinner paper and in black and white, that section was about homes that had been bought and sold, or were available to buy. I knew both of my homes, the new one and the old one, were in there, and made a halfhearted attempt to look them up as I walked. I thought it was pretty clever of the magazine creators to have this middle section that could pulled out and easily updated and replaced.

I entered the building with a black family: father, mother, and two young boys. One of the boys was playing, and pretended to shoot me. I pretended to fall over dead, laughing as I did. I happen to fall over my brown sofa, which I recognized, thinking of it as my old brown sofa. (In real life, we’ve had this sofa for twenty years, but we’ve ordered a new sofa, and are waiting for it to be delivered.) As the family went on down the hall, I got up to head for my new place eager to see it.

Unfortunately, a cat woke me, so that’s where the dream ends.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Today’s song came about from Facebook. Stuart Berman posted a gorgeous shot of sunset and the Golden Gate Bridge, with darkening purple and indigo waves in the forefront.

Naturally, my mind injected “Lights” by Journey (1978). I lived in the S.F. Bay Area about fourteen years, from the early nineties to the mid-aughts, and I’m nostalgic about the place. It has a magic, powerful energy. Although Steve Perry originally wrote the lyrics about L.A., he changed the lyrics after he moved to S.F. and saw the light on the bay. Having that so simply stated, the bay, allows the song to be applied to wherever light is going down on a city by a bay. It’s a soft, reflective ballad with some nice Neal Schon guitar work.

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