Milestone

Last Wednesday I wrote “The End” on the first draft of “Captain.” Saturday I celebrated.

There remains a way to go before I can consider the novel complete, but most of the heavy lifting is finished. Now I need to set it aside, turn my mind to something else before commencing the second draft. That something else is book three of the series: “Warlord.” I began outlining Thursday morning.

Not Entering an Ass-Kicking Contest Any Time Soon

I’m staring down fifty. As of this writing that day remains about six months away, slouching inexorably closer. I fight the inevitable as best I may, hitting the gym five days a week, maintaining a generally healthy diet.

So I think it was more bad luck than age or poor conditioning that caught me Thursday afternoon. I was mowing the lawn, about two-thirds complete, when I turned to push the mower uphill for another pass. I felt something give in my right calf. I will spare you a description of the pain. Let’s leave it at “it hurt.”

The Slog

Writing is an incremental process. At least for novels; you can, theoretically, knock out a short story in a single session, though in practice that is rare. Creating a novel is a process. It is bricklaying, spreading the mortar and applying a layer of bricks every day.

Amateurish Tolkien Sleuthing

MBW, the HA, and I drove out to the Columbia River Gorge yesterday and embarked on a paddlewheel sightseeing excursion upriver. The sky offered better visibility than it had most of the previous month: about this time every year everything west of the Rockies bursts into flame. Smoke obscures the views. Yesterday wasn’t bad. The river breeze was nice.

Musings in Motion

The HA spent a few days in California with her grandparents. Currently MBW and I are en route to pick her up at roughly the halfway point, specifically a casino about twenty five miles south of Roseburg, Oregon. I believe the HA’s excursion benefited everyone. Her grandparents get grandkid time, MBW and I enjoyed some child-free time, and the HA, I assume, enjoyed being spoiled.

Oregon Brewers Festival 2018

Last full weekend of July. And that means: The Oregon Brewers Festival. The family and I made the trek to the Portland waterfront. The HA frolicked in the fountain while wandered a few blocks away for a bit of frolicking of my own. The Festival has made a couple of changes that I did not care for. The organizers ditched the program booklet, substituting a single sheet. And they stopped providing a pen along with the tasting package. So I was forced to type in my notes on my phone with increasingly fumbly fingers. My notes follow a bit farther down.