I’m headed for the wire on this manuscript and still lagging behind where I ought to be. But at least I can report that I had a pretty good writing day on Tuesday. The story is moving toward its conclusion. Ideas are clicking into place. At this point I’m trying to worry less about word and page count and more about just getting the story on paper. Nothing can be fixed as long as it is just an idea in my head. I’ve got to get the ideas out of me first. Then I can fiddle and tweak.
I realized last week that my next project, the book that will release in October 2006, will be my 50th published book. That’s rather amazing to me. I know quite a few authors who have written far more than that. I think Gilbert Morris is up to 206 or 209. Angela Elwell Hunt is over 100. Still, I’m looking at #50 and thinking, Wow! Who’d have ever thought it? I wrote my first novel just to see if I could do it. That was 24 years ago.
I am anxious to get to do some of my "after the book is done" cleaning. I have more piles of paper and "stuff" in this house, things that need sorted and filed or shredded, things that need put away, given away, or thrown away. Every once in a while I think about the possibility of selling my home and moving some place where I don’t have such a big yard to tend to (maybe into a town home where there is no yard work at all). Then I think about what "moving" means and I shudder at the overwhelming task it would be to pack up just the books in my library alone. I have over 1500, maybe closer to 2000. Research books. Reference books. Novels by the scores. Bibles and Bible studies and Christian living and devotionals and … Well, you get the picture.
So, how many hundreds of books do you own? Not so many that you won’t buy more of mine, I hope. Guess I’d better finish writing it.