I tried to get into work this morning, but I got as far as the Kroger and said, “Well, fuck it, that was scary enough for one day,” and I came home. I did, however, see this right at the garage door, a thousand tiny bird footprints. I have to believe they were huddled by the door for warmth.
Or they were waiting to eat our brains.
You never can tell with birds. Today has involved a lot of curling up on the couch and now the Butcher has gone to get some fire wood so that mammals who want to can curl up by the fire.
That would be me.
I have finished chapter four. It went pretty well once I decided to include the whole bit about Hannah having to go to Mississippi to pick up a baby.
I need to let chapter five stew in my mind some, but I am out of thread and the extra one I bought appears to have no end. It is my luck to have found the mobius strip of thread, but I did.
Chapter five is the last chapter in my outline, which is a shame because it means either my book is very short or my structure is all wrong. It also means something for the second draft, I feel, but I’m not sure what. I am nervous about the second draft, how to do it, how to even know what to do.
I envy people with their MFAs just because I imagine they have someone to say “Oh, your second draft, it should to blah blah blah” or “Oh, you need to work on pacing” or whatever and you would know what those things meant.
Though I suppose there is no guarantee. You could go to a really crappy MFA program where everyone told you you needed to work on pacing, but no one told you how. That would suck.
I’m now going to envision an MFA person who is sitting there contemplating her last chapter wishing she hadn’t gone to school so that she was not faced with knowing how to define all these words, but still no way of knowing if she was doing them right.
I just don’t know. It feels like you could get lost for years in a second draft.