Well, can’t say I lost my arm-wrestling match with the day but then I didn’t lose ground, either.
Up at a decent hour and off to the cottage to write. Did pretty well, pushing the new ms word count over 65,000. Should be able to reach the end here in a day or so. The end, that is, of the beginning. But before I leap into revisions, I’m going to go back to the shorts I left in a state of despair and see if I can’t shape one or two into a decent story. Also going to get in some added reading time.
Read an old essay by L. McMurtry this afternoon. One I hadn’t seen before—Take My Saddle from the Wall: A Valediction. Caught up on some other pieces as well, before tending to another N. critique.
Was wondering about the boys when we got a FaceTime call from Jack while out on a late afternoon walk. They’d cut off all his hair! He looked like a lifer in the orange top he was wearing! Good, so good, to hear his voice again. Matty was wild, as always. Neither one let on any disappointment about not coming out. They seem (or Jack does, anyway) to realize people are sick and travel is dangerous.
Miss the hell out of the both.
Nothing to do but bear it.