I've been writing away, nearly everyday since we got home! I have forty cohesive pages, which is the most I've ever written of a straight narrative. I'm a bit proud of this, and I'm hoping if I keep up this pace that I will be ready to submit the proposal to an agent this fall. I've also entered a non-fiction writing competition, the finalists being announced on Tuesday. It's a day before the two-year anniversary, and it would sure help make me less sad on the 25th. I'm still not sure how we're going to mark that day.
Here's a little bit of teaser writing from the pages I've been working on:
While many had been evacuated, some were allowed to return to their home, sleep in their bed, be thankful they were spared a fire that could have leveled an entire neighborhood rather than a few houses in it. I wondered how different their lives would be if the wind had been blowing more southerly. I would be sitting in my house, curled up in my bed, feeling sorry for the neighbors down the street. I would be wondering how to help as I tossed my trash into the can and hauled it to the street.
But the winds hadn’t blown in their direction, and the fire had burned my house with my unborn son’s nursery. Whereas earlier in the week I had criticized the overgrown lawn and dandelions, I now envied them. I didn’t even have weeds to return to.