Edge of Forty

Posted: August 16, 2010 in Uncategorized

Who is really surprised that the goal I set myself to have done by the time I turn forty gets finished at 10:45 the night before?

Anyway. We have a finished draft of Nine Dead Suns.

When I say that, what I really mean is that I plugged the holes with orthodontic wax and gummy worms, and as soon as I pick up a printed copy (three-hole punched, even!) from FedEx Kinkos, I intend to demolish the writing I’ve done over the last two weeks and put up something much better. Though I did put in a zeppelin, so it wasn’t all bad. My favorite bit from today’s mad dash:

The knight lunged at Ben, this time swinging a fist at Ben’s face. Ben folded space to connect the area right in front of his nose with the area right in front of the knight’s nose. Blood gushed as the man punched himself in the face with all his strength.

Ben tried not to say it.

“Stop hitting yourself,” he said, failing.

Anyway. Checking off today’s “were you awesome?” box. I can leave thirty-nine behind knowing I got something done.

Tomorrow I will be forty. There better be cake and presents. No balloons, though, because my boys can make the most unpleasant noises with them.


Tomorrow: Uh… forty, remember? I think I mentioned it, like, two sentences ago. Sheesh, and I thought I was the one getting senile here…

  1. MHPayne says:

    I would send you:

    Special “unsqueakable” balloons, but I’m afraid they got mixed in with my “unspeakable” balloons. And I hesitate to imagine what mischief the boys could concoct with those…

    All sorts of happies to you, though!

    That Mike Guy

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