Which might, of course, still be utter dreck. I regularly look at the mash-up of ideas here, and while I could (and perhaps someday will) write at great length about why they all make sense to me, there is no guarantee that any reader will agree.
December will be spent less in pursuit of wordcount and more in pursuit of cleanliness. There are some hand-wavy bits in this draft still; the ending is only half-written. I'm sure I have overlooked many opportunities to work my metaphors. I had ideas three quarters through, which now need to be seeded into earlier chapters.
Business as usual. In other news, we had Thanksgiving, and it was marvelous. My menu was almost exactly the same as it has been in previous years. This may be what adulthood looks like.
And I just broke all of my progress bars with this post. Boo.
The Prometheus Tapestry