(no subject)
This afternoon we're I'm getting in a rental storage shed and Friday a dumpster. So yesterday and today, with a bit of help from a couple of friends, I pruned the apple tree and the rose that grows in it back to nine feet off the ground where the shed will sit: ditto the neighbor's bottlebrush tree that mostly grows over the driveway: cleared all the very rampant growth that had covered the (dirt and gravel) driveway: and broke down two little berms I had made in the driveway years ago in my attempt to raise plants up to the sun. I'm exhausted. But I still have to move everything, everything, everything out of the eaves and the room proper upstairs (hence dumpster and shed) because Zack's going to repair the drywall and finish off the room: walls around the eaves, a real floor, wall in the currently open closety area. And there's a lot up there.
I am writing, a little: a couple hundred words most days and up to 1-1/2 thousand every third or fourth day. What I'm doing, mostly, is finishing A Suitable Lover, and then I'm also picking at a thing I call Prospect Road which takes place in the world of the Chuy book and is a boarding school story with ecological science instead of wizardry, and collective values instead of individual heroism. My guy is a kid who fell through the cracks of his own draconian community and chances to be recommended for a special remedial scholarship to a training school for the folks who manage the terraformed ecology. He's damaged, and threatened by the rules back home, andhas never worked in cooperative teams before. He has to learn to stick up for himself and to meld into a group. It's nearly finished, actually, but not as nearly as the first, and the first is a hoot to write, so I'm finishing the first first.
And now I have to go get boxes and give the dog a thrill.
I wish Ted was here,
I am writing, a little: a couple hundred words most days and up to 1-1/2 thousand every third or fourth day. What I'm doing, mostly, is finishing A Suitable Lover, and then I'm also picking at a thing I call Prospect Road which takes place in the world of the Chuy book and is a boarding school story with ecological science instead of wizardry, and collective values instead of individual heroism. My guy is a kid who fell through the cracks of his own draconian community and chances to be recommended for a special remedial scholarship to a training school for the folks who manage the terraformed ecology. He's damaged, and threatened by the rules back home, andhas never worked in cooperative teams before. He has to learn to stick up for himself and to meld into a group. It's nearly finished, actually, but not as nearly as the first, and the first is a hoot to write, so I'm finishing the first first.
And now I have to go get boxes and give the dog a thrill.
I wish Ted was here,