Yes, I did this (work night shift) for 15 years, but I have not done it in a while, and I am not only doing 1 of them, but I am working 4 night shifts in a row!
It is yet another sign of the apocalypse.
How in the bleep did I do this all those years. Years which, I might add, I barely remember. I liked it once upon a time, but that fairy has died and I do not like it now. Only because I love my co-workers (and hope they work for me so I can go to Jamaica again), do I do this.
Thank you for listening. I'm done now.
Road Clothes is coming along nicely. I've had a few things happen that surprised me, and the word count is rising without undue angst. If I get stuck for some transition, I have the characters go out to dinner, which is what I do in my real life for almost any reason. It is all about food.
I'm sorry that I don't have anything interesting to say. That does not mean that I will not stop talking or writing, but I won't be so offended if I am tuned out. All of my effort is going to my novel and my writing classes, so the blog necessarily takes a back seat for a bit. I thought about putting up an excerpt from the book, but it is really a first draft and while not horrible, it is not in show-off shape yet.
But maybe just this one paragraph, some of you will know the setting:
It was 4:17 pm and 74 degrees on the 12th of November when Cassidy left the impound yard. She eased the Mustang out of the steep drive and headed east toward Union Road. Top down, radio up, Cassidy was taking her pony for a ride. It was the sole reason she loved fast cars, for the feel of the wind in her hair and road humming by beneath her. Some people drank beer to relieve stress, some smoked or yelled at their wives or beat their children. Cassidy drove. And sang. The driving she did well, the singing, not so much, but it was the release that pleased her, not the act. A few miles out Union and the road narrowed too much to be safe at high speeds, so she turned left at Geneseo and then headed east on Highway 46, the complete opposite direction from where she’d found the arm, away from her mother and sister, but closer to something. Closer to herself maybe.
There. I'm not sure that will even be in the final draft, but I'm happy with it for now. I think I just want to prove to myself that I'm making progress in my writing. So that is all for now. After I finish my night shifts, I think I will take some new "character stage" pictures with my dress form and show how Cassidy dresses. That is the goal for the weekend.
Peace,
Jo Taylor
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