The end of November seems to have snuck up on me very quickly. The weather has been playing tricks, keeping the leaves green on the trees and the sun relatively warm, thus fooling me into thinking that it's a lot earlier in the year than it actually is. I've barely got any Christmas shopping done - I'm normally very efficient with that sort of thing - because December feels ages away (as opposed to, you know, TOMORROW).
I'm off this afternoon to Yateley in order to be a bridesmaid tomorrow. I will return home in December and realise I am shocking behind.
Fortunately, my writing schedule doesn't take account of the weather. I am doing it week-by-week and have still (a little surprisingly) managed to stay on track. I've written two of this week's three chapters, and will hopefully get the third done when I get back from the above-mentioned wedding. I haven't really done any meaningful job searching so far this week (apart from an interview with Barna Shields recruitment company) so you can see how my priorities arrange themselves. If only writing were a real job.
It's quite a scary thought that I've only got six chapters to go. I just recounted it on my fingers. Yep, definitely six. It doesn't really feel like the end though. Book two is already starting to take shape in my head, even though I know I probably won't get round to actually writing it for a while (she says). Other things have to take the lead first. Like actually properly finishing book one, for instance.
Right, back to packing/ironing/fussing/panicking. Why panicking, you ask? Because I have a fear far more terrifying than the idea of only have six chapters to go - that I will trip over walking down the aisle in front of the lovely bride tomorrow. I can really see myself doing that. Vividly. In full colour, live action detail. Ah, the joys of a writer's imagination.