The post at year's end
Dec. 31st, 2008 11:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceThis is the year for not really paying attention to festivals, seemingly: I kept sort of forgetting it was Christmas, and tonight I cannot keep it in my head that this is New Year's Eve.
I should be Out, of course; Out makes these things easier. But I had already pulled out of the planned exotic trip (into the depths of the country to watch men run around with blazing tar-barrels on their shoulders) on account of being broken; that trip was actually cancelled, but the proposed alternative still involved leaving the house - as Out so often does, I find - and I really am very badly broken, so I am staying In. Indeed, I'm going to bed any moment, to huddle under several duvets and/or cats and try to see if I can feel mendy. My lungs are full of shattered glass, it isn't good at all.
Still, I did just pause to do the traditional page-count: 1016 pages of legitimate prose (that means fiction, basically, though I cut myself some slack for introductions, essays, that sort of thing. Published matter, let's say - or at least matter intended for publication). Which would give me a total over 300,000 words - maybe 325,000 - for the year, which in the circumstances I am always going to be happy with.
Also, m'friend'n'colleague Daniel Fox (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moshui)'s novel Dragon in Chains has just been very kindly reviewed by my friend julesjones, so that's a nice warm note to take to bed with me.
G'night, all; farewell, year. Dare we hope that next year will try harder, or at least go easier on those of us not well equipped to deal? Thank you kindly.
I should be Out, of course; Out makes these things easier. But I had already pulled out of the planned exotic trip (into the depths of the country to watch men run around with blazing tar-barrels on their shoulders) on account of being broken; that trip was actually cancelled, but the proposed alternative still involved leaving the house - as Out so often does, I find - and I really am very badly broken, so I am staying In. Indeed, I'm going to bed any moment, to huddle under several duvets and/or cats and try to see if I can feel mendy. My lungs are full of shattered glass, it isn't good at all.
Still, I did just pause to do the traditional page-count: 1016 pages of legitimate prose (that means fiction, basically, though I cut myself some slack for introductions, essays, that sort of thing. Published matter, let's say - or at least matter intended for publication). Which would give me a total over 300,000 words - maybe 325,000 - for the year, which in the circumstances I am always going to be happy with.
Also, m'friend'n'colleague Daniel Fox (
moshui)'s novel Dragon in Chains has just been very kindly reviewed by my friend julesjones, so that's a nice warm note to take to bed with me.G'night, all; farewell, year. Dare we hope that next year will try harder, or at least go easier on those of us not well equipped to deal? Thank you kindly.