Fifteen Forty-Eights (15/48)

I'm working on the rewrites of my chapters, getting them really as clean and polished as I can, for release next week.

When I write my first draft, I write The Story. It's sort of like I'm making a person. See, everyone needs bones (we'd look REALLY funny without them), so when I write, I'm making the bones of the story.

The problem with that is - it's the bones of the story. There isn't any meat or muscle, not much there to sink your teeth into. There is some, but it's more a shadow of what's to come. Now, I'm fleshing things out and really putting those lean muscles over the bones. My story is starting to look a little more... human?

This analogy is weird.

So far today, I've rewritten through Chapter 15. I'm behind schedule, but I'm not panicking (yet). The thing is, I was REALLY excited about my rewrites today. Rewrites are potentially not an exciting thing for me. It's basically the time where I say, "Yeah, I kinda screwed up, so let's fix it. SIIIIGH."

Today I felt like the rewrites I did were really powerful, like the story is getting cranked back against some springs and waiting to explode into the face of my readers. (Boom) The scenes that had pizazz have really perked up and I think have impact. I felt exhilarated on the re-read! So, good for me.

On another note, thanks everyone who was worried about my hand. I'm doing fine, everything is healing up very nicely and I'm taking good care of it. Only average light infection, nothing at all to worry about. It's starting to itch, which drives me nuts, but I'm staying away from it. (As much as one CAN stay away from one's own HAND.)

I got the amazingly intelligent (incredibly stupid) idea today that, since I want to exercise and slim down a bit before my wedding (remember the fiance I mention all the time?) I would go for a jog.

And I would take the dog with me.

My sweet and loving puppy is about 5 months old. I'm pretty sure this qualifies him to be identified as 100% perpetual motion. In an effort to wear my dog out, I have played fetch with him (long-distance fetch!) for so long he has coughed up mucus (and I thought my arm would fall off). Regardless, he coughed, then brought the slobbery, mucus-y ball directly back to my feet. (I think it's the border collie in him.)

Jogging with Perpetual-Motion-With-Fur is not the most genius idea I have ever had. I went all the way around the block to the left (down the hill), passed my street and went around the block to the right (fairly level), passed my street street again and went around the first block in the opposite direction (UP the hill, dumb-da-dumb-dumb), then down my street and home. He merely trotted along in front of me like, "Hey? Why are you going so Sloooooooooow?!?" I collapsed on the couch, legs frozen through and lungs totally collapsed. (Okay, maybe not totally.) Luckily for me, the dog jumped directly in my lap and gave me concerned puppy eyes. A balm for the soul, that. (Too bad it couldn't do anything for my lungs.) Also, at 40+ lbs, he's not exactly the lightest thing to have in your lap...

I didn't realize how out of shape I was! How embarrassing. My fiance tried to assuage my feelings by assuring me, "It's because of the cold!" Regardless that it is friggin' cold outside (11 degrees Fahrenheit), I still feel like a wuss. I really need to take better care of myself! Now where did I leave that Pepsi cube...

Tomorrow is my last day of work before my nine-day vacation! I am extremely excited about this. As soon as my lungs re-inflate, I'll be sure to let out a cheer!