Okey dokey, here it is (EDIT – this is old news now that the book is pubbed, so away it goes), a neat clean and tidy version of Our Story So Far. I’m looking forward to what my One Reader will think of it. The only bit of the story itself I really changed was the very end, where I realized it would be the instant death of Caroline’s friendship with Alice were she to find out that Alice was holding out crucial info. So instead, it’s Jay holding out on both of them.
Editing is like housecleaning. Some people love it, others like me fucking hate it. It feels so entropic, so opposite from actually progressing on something. And yet, I do feel better after I’ve done it, if only because it’s done and you don’t have to think about it any more. And given my historic problem with endings, I can now move forward knowing the material hasn’t slipped away from me or is missing some critical element that will betray me in the end. All I need now is the motive power to write through to the end.
I scheduled a trip to NYC after all, at the end of October, despite not really being able to afford it. It may be a moot point since I cashed in miles on American for the ticket and I could easily find my flight and trip cancelled the Day Of Departure. But it’s amazing how much cheaper it is to go when you are unemployed and can book a hotel in the middle of the week. And when you bow down to your Circumstances and buy balcony tickets through discount websites rather than flinging cash around for the “best” seats – of course I had a “best” seat for Book of Mormon and had some Giant Distinguished SIlver Head in front of me and lost my view of the middle half of the stage; would have been better off in the balcony actually.
But as always, I need my NYC trip. Need the stimulation, the break in the routine (even if, maybe especially if, right now the routine is not much of a whole lot of nothing), the place to sit and sketch out what will be the end of the book, the reminder of What Is Possible if I can hit it big with something, someday. And that just plain old need for something to look forward to other than just getting up every damn day and living the same day over and over.