How many roads must a couple in a hatchback drive down?

Last night at approximately 11:53 EST, DP and I stumbled into the house. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see my kitchen before. I’ve been visiting my sister-in-law’s house for so long that I am comfortable there. I no longer ask if it’s okay if I make coffee if no one else wants any. The triplets no longer knock before the barge into the bedroom to say goodnight to my dog.

I worried there was a tree down as we pulled into the driveway because it seemed as if I could see more sky. But it was just fall, stripping the leaves from the trees. The Japanese maple outside my window is as red as the walls of my dining room. My computer and I have been reunited with the dining room table. This is where I spend most of my time.

I caught a cold, and my voice is so weak that I had to tap my dog’s back to wake him up. Usually I cajole him out of bed and down the stairs to go outside. Today he stared at me as I whispered, “Come on! Come on!” Fortunately there are presentations in class today. I do not have to talk.

What about the Fucker? you ask. Well. I read a bit online about writing a synopsis. Turns out you strip the story of its emotion and nuance and get it on the page. If you can’t figure out how to write it, then you probably haven’t thought the book through. I wrote the first 600 words of the synopsis in mere minutes. I’m foundering at the transition to and from the sore-thumb section, but if I hadn’t been heading out the door yesterday to drive for 2,398 miles (or thereabouts), I probably would have figured it out.

[Ed. aside: DP just walked in, and when I read him the title of today’s post, he said, “a couple of what?” I’ll leave that to you, dear readers.]

I’m going to swig some cold medicine, wander into class, let other people talk, go home early, and finish the fucker.

How’s your fucker?


10 responses to “How many roads must a couple in a hatchback drive down?

  1. The duckwork is going well, though I just spent ten minutes of writing time on the Greyhound bus site trying to determine if it was possible to get from Oregon to St. Louis in the way I need this secondary character to get there. ‘Cause it’s a major clue.

    It works! Onward!

  2. I’ve got one fucker’s queries lined up in a list of a few agent submission slushpiles. The other fucker is such a huge project that it is in proposal process dreamland. I’ll be dead or so old I won’t know my own name if I get into that one.
    In honor of your cold I am going to pop a couple of Nyquil and pretend I’m sick. I will be cured by tomorrow, hope you will too.

  3. You keep asking this question of me, and the answer doesn’t change. I’m making zero progress on pretty much everything. (Except I did have a brief flourish of writing earlier in the week. I’m waiting to see if that was a false dawn or not.)

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