Tuesday, May 14, 2002
Chapter Six is finished, which, by my rough estimation, means that I'm one chapter away from being halfway finished with the novel. I did an amazing (if I do say so myself, and I just did) 1,669 words today, in only five hours. But, as is almost always the case, completion (even sub-completion) only leads a sort of post-partum depression. A distinctly drained or diminished feeling, with hardly a hint of satisfaction or any sense of accomplishment. I don't stand back and admire the completed work. If anything, I try not to think about it, as the more I think about it, the more depressing the whole affair becomes.
Now I need to move away from Low Red Moon for a day or three (but no longer), to clear my head, and maybe work on other things.
Does anyone out there know the proper name, if such a name exists, for the portion of a key that one grips when working a lock? Jennifer and I spent half an hour online and searching through books Sunday looking for a term. I finally settled on "handle," though I am by no means certain that I'm correct. If you know better, e-mail me at Desvernine@aol.com and say so. Writers have to know the names for all the parts of everything.
There was something nice today, an e-mail from Jhonen Vasquez saying how much he'd enjoyed Threshold. It was a bright spot in an otherwise, literally, bleak day. A freakish mid-May cold snap here in Birmingham, with the temperature in the 60s most of the afternoon and a cold north wind and clouds that hung uselessly about, refusing even a drop of rain.
I have begun, I realize, a contest of wills with myself. I demand that I finish this book before I move back to Atlanta (there are a few other possible destinations, but Atlanta seems inevitable). I just have to find a way to endure Birmingham for five or six more months. Mostly, this means staying inside, taking as many trips as work will allow, including frequent trips to Atlanta.