Keepin' on

According to my little chart over there on the right, I'm halfway through the first draft of my new novel after 8 weeks (really 8 weekends). My goal is really more like 90K words, not 75K, because it will allow me to cut, so I'm not celebrating yet. But it's good to make constant progress.

One of the little jokes I'm playing on myself is taking a character and situation from my recently completed (yet still to be rewritten one more time) novel about an American girl in India and using them in the new book, which has a completely different focus and setting. One of the minor characters in the India book appears in the new one. This would be a sort of shared joke with readers, except that the India novel has no readers yet.

Speaking of the India novel, it was called Dear Prudence. But my agent -- who has asked for a rewrite with a certain focus -- said the title didn't do anything for her, and she got the reference, too. So the title of that book, which I will rewrite next spring after I finish the current project, shall henceforth be Bangalored.

Music, quietude, rain, coffee

Yesterday evening I sang with my church choir. It sounds harmless enough but it meant standing for 100 minutes rehearsing, followed by a 20 minute break, then a concert lasting an hour and ten minutes. Exhausting. This was followed by the regular Sunday schedule of rehearsing at 9:00 a.m. this morning, followed by the service itself lasting until 12:30; but at least you get to sit down for much of that time.

I love music and singing but I'm not very good, and in addition there is a shortage of tenors so I have to sing tenor, when I'm really a baritone. That means singing in an uncomfortably high range. But I'm not complaining; I get to sing. Perhaps the listeners are complaining. The other tenor might complain about my singing, but he's paid, so he has nothing to complain about either. (Seriously, he's a very nice guy who does 80% of the heavy lifting, while I just sort of provide a little blended cover so it doesn't sound like he's singing by himself.)

For the rest of the day I hung around the house; Cris and I wrangled the files in the file cabinet a little. And I dug in the basement until I found issue 5 of Frighten the Horses so I could photocopy an article we published about the Street Patrol. Then it was off to Golden Gate Park to feed the feral cats.

All in all a peaceful weekend. I am not dead or sick, just taking a bit of a break from the media-obsessed blogging I have been doing for a few years, I guess.