I can't believe I forgot to tell you this. No, I can believe it. I was in family mode which means all talk of things vulgar having to do with childish elimination events take precendent over everything. Including my book. But during that adventurous run in Albany, New York, the fine capitol of the Empire State, home state of our Hero Pandora and her cadre of companions, in a sweeping gust of fate, the end of my book settled upon me. I actually now know what I am writing towards. It's an amazing feeling.
All this time I have been chugging along in fits and starts, wondering if the book would ever find a plot at all. Hucking out that 75 pages and starting over, that felt incredible. The fear about it was outweighed only by the knowledge that it was the only way I could make the book survive. And now, finally, an ending. A place for Pandora to arrive. Exhausted, eternal, Pandora.
Dear Weird Running Habit I Have Developed in Middle Age,
Thanks for the salty upper lip, the aching hips, the countless hours of deeply interesting solitude, the sightseeing tour of a beautiful city, the sunrises, the courage, the pain, the peace, and all the writing inspiration. Who knew you'd end up being such a loyal mutherfucker?