Status of the Novel

“Mmmm.” She said, and her breathing disappeared. Even with the hiking boots she would lace up later, she moved quietly; in the early morning padding from room to room in her socks she made no sound at all. The faucet betrayed her. She must be in the kitchen drawing the same tall glass full to the rim with water. Every morning, the same glass of water. It washed away the night from her body? Cleared her mind? Baptized and sanctified her soul? In twenty one years, I've never asked. Once the glass was overfull, she would sip twice and then slowly, patiently drink it all. These traits: utter silence and a devotion to a ridiculously tall glass of water were, perhaps, another reason I preferred mornings to any other part of the day for Kathleen and I.


WORD COUNT: 6256 (out of 50,000)
PERCENT COMPLETE: 12%
GOAL WORD COUNT FOR TOMORROW: 1687
WRITING HOURS LEFT: 41
BIG REALIZATION: writing stories heals me and makes me whole; politics, administration and bueracracy gut me like a rotting corpse opened by vultures.


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