Down To Work

So, it seems I may have committed myself to a completely and utterly undoable goal of having a finished draft of the book (see, see how I'm actually calling it a book instead of a long story) finished by May 1st. Having successfully surrounded myself not only with books, but with other writers, we all seem to be egging each other on in all the good ways. I'm still not convinced that I'll ever finish, but it's nice to not be alone, if that makes any sense at all.

The candle is lit. The email is all caught up. There's t-minus a couple hours until the Oscars. My RRHB has done all the laundry. I had brunch with one of my oldest friends who has just become engaged. I've obsessed over a certain something. Repeated"The King of Carrot Flowers" about sixteen times. This lead to a little dancing around my writing room. And read two stories in My Mistress's Sparrow is Dead, one of which contained this quote from Chekhov:

Repeated experience, and bitter experience indeed, had long since taught him that every intimacy, which in the beginning lends life such pleasant diversity and presents itself as a nice and light adventure, inevitably, with decent people -- especially irresolute Muscovites, who are slow starters -- grows into a major task, extremely complicated, and the situation finally becomes burdensome.

Perhaps it's time to start?