Damn

I've been writing like a mad bugger since Wednesday morning when my parents left, trying to get the first draft of this book done before the end of the year. In five days I've typed more than 20k, which is not too shabby for someone with a cold who's been staying in bed until noon most days.

But it's not going to be enough.

This morning, the Horse Doctor and I took the dachshund for a stroll. The wind being sufficiently strong to make conversation difficult, and my head being full of snivels anyway, most of this perambulation was taken up with thinking. And I came to the conclusion that I had peaked too early, as the Actress said to the Bishop. One of the crucial moments the book had been building up to happened on Thursday evening, and in the intervening days of writing, several more chapters had appeared, making for a rather drawn-out ending.

So this afternoon I have been mainly refettling the last few chapters - basically all the stuff I've written since Christmas - to allow the climax to occur closer to the end. I could have just carried on writing until it finished, then gone back and done this, but that seemed to be too complicated.

Now I have seven hours until midnight, and absolutely bugger all chance that the final chapter will be closed by then.

Damn.

Still, it's almost there. And since I'm not going to be getting hammered tonight (cold + hangover = not much fun at all) I might, just might, get it finished tomorrow.

So everyone else, send out the old year and bring in the new with lots of festive cheer. I'll be here in my study, working on my repetitive strain injury.