Right this very moment...

 

72727 / 80000 words. 90.9% done!

Just sayin'. I do like these fancy numbers. I sort of watch for 'em.

Today's word of the day: egilops! Pronounced eejilops, not eggylops! It means a goat's eye, or an abscess in the inner canthus of the eye (eww)!

I am so going to miss this dictionary, when I go.

Question of the day: turfs, or turves?

Everybody's doing this, and you know what I'm like for sheepishness

I picked this up from three or four of my friends: recast your prose as poetry, just to see how it looks from another perspective.

This would be the opening of House of Bells, then:

She had never
really
believed in the guru.

She was a firm believer in herself,
in all her guilt and grief.
And in the noble art of running away,
geographical distance,
that too.

It had seemed enough, once.
Behind her, back in London, where
everything was loud and immediate and unbearable.
Get away, get far away,
be somewhere else. Somebody else.

It had seemed
all too wonderfully attractive,
if she were honest.

She could be honest, sometimes.
If she was paid enough.

Hee

You know what I was saying about numbers?

Well, I've just finished a chapter, and I'm stopping here for now. I'm going home. But: if I wrote just 111 more words, which is a lovely number in itself, I would have 73737, which is almost as lovely as 72727. Also, if I cast those 111 words into a neat four sentences, I would have exactly 5000 of the things, which would be beautifully round.

Not going to. Not. Despite all temptation. I said, I've finished the chapter and I'm going home.
(But it is very tempting, though.)