Too tired

“Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way” –E.L. Doctorow

So far I’ve managed to average at least 2k words a day.

Last night it was a bit slower after a rough day of work and I barely squeaked out 1670 words.

And then it was time for WoW.

Got all my cooking up to 600 and started collecting mats for the Master questline. Unfortunately, I was short by one mat for all the recipes I had to cook and was far too tired to do anything about it.

It will just have to wait. Like getting exalted with the Anglers. That should have happened last night, I’m one quest away.

Too tired.

But I did get Turtles All the Way Down over the weekend. Two expansions of fishing and I finally got it on my DK, who happened to be fishing for Arioch’s cooking. I figured I might as well work on his fishing since Arioch’s was capped.

After hoping for it for so long, it came as a complete surprise and there was much squeeeeeing to be had.

And with that, I’m too tired to write any more so here’s some copy/paste.

I’m trying to remember to tag all of these with the NaNoWriMo category so you can try to piece it together later. No guarantees that I’ll post things in order or that you’ll even get complete chapters!

Jonathon raised an eyebrow as he continued pouring wine into her glass. “You aren’t normally curious about another’s circumstances. I don’t suppose this would lead to a divulgence of what brought you to the Seagull those few years ago?”

Grinning wickedly, she took the proffered wine glass, “Not at all. A girl has to be able to keep a secret.” Sipping the wine she remarked, “Good vintage, nice and earthy. Now what can you tell me about the boy? Or his family?”

“On script? Nothing unusual. Woman alone with child. Bounced from job to job. Getting desperate enough to sign on for a long haul in the dark. She came from mudball-mining stock, the concepts are the same, just the tools change.

“By script she’s just another sad story. Nothing about the boy’s father. I imagine that’s why she’s on the move. She didn’t care about the destination, so she’s not running ‘to’ somewhere, that usually just leaves running ‘from’ somewhere.”

“And you, being the collector of strays that you are, took her on,” Dena’s tone was warm; she herself had been a stray nearly 5 years ago when the captain took her in and agreed to her crazy idea of a school on a mining vessel.

Jonathon paused, glass half-raised to his lips, “There’s script and then there’s truth. And I’ll be damned if I can tell if they validate.” He finished the thought with a slow taste of the amber liquid.

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