So I might have been a Total Fail in terms of NaNo count, but the impetus allowed me to finish–FINISH!–the novella I’ve been working on forever.

Whee!

And then I jumped right back into the Urban Fantasy, and wrote a whole bunch of words yesterday.

Yay!

So maybe NaNo is good for me after all, just not in the ‘50K words by the end of the month’ way.

This might be my heroine; not sure yet. She is spunky and not as aware of her own beauty as she perhaps should be. Ergo:

The Devoted Dad and the Missing Daddy Time Son are out running errands so I am attempting to write. Not sure how good it is. Might post some here later on this week.

Not quite sure what the heroine looks like yet, but I have a good idea. Working on it now (just a hint: He’s not an Alpha, that’s for sure).

Today I picked up where I had left off–all 12 pages of it–on a contemporary the idea of which sprang up while I was at the laundromat a few years ago. Mind you, nothing in the story has to do with the laundromat, but inspiration strikes in crazy places.

Although whether this is inspired, or merely dopey, remains to be seen. And now I have 18 pages. A 50% gain?

My back is much better, it’s almost as though it had never hurt at all. It’s the oddest thing, my back, but I guess we’ve reached some sort of day-and-a-half-of-pain detente.

Top Chef, I’m not.

Last night, while chopping vegetables, I cut my finger really bad. I went to the ER, thankfully needed no stitches, but now have a ginormous bandage on my left index finger.

If my life were a chick-lit novel, this would be when I get the green light on The Unnamed Project and a deadline, so I had to type fast and often (I am learning to type more with the left middle).

I am hoping my life is a chick-lit novel.

Megan

*Stevie Wonder song, back when he was “Little” Stevie Wonder

I am having a lot of fun with The Unnamed Project (especially ’cause the acronym is T.U.P., which makes me laugh in a ‘British slang for nookie’ kind of way). More news about that when I can share.

And the Son, much to his chagrin, returns to school in a little over a month–this summer has flown by, and I cannot believe it’s going to be August already. Which means–MY BIRTHDAY! I’m not so psyched about this one (43) because I am really firmly middle-aged. Right? Right, even if I don’t look it.

But still. Birthdays are generally fun.

My ideal birthday gift is a day with a clean house, no meals to cook, and guilt-free time to read. What’s yours?