I just sent Thorington to my editor. This should probably call for champagne, but I'm going to sleep instead. It's not a complete draft, since what I need her help on is the structure of the last act, but it's better than nothing, and way better than it was a month ago.
Needless to say, today was a long and brutal slog. I got up early to work on my own stuff, then showered, drove down to Mountain View, and did a lot of stuff for the day job. Any day when I don't rage quit is a good day, particularly when I'm dreaming of Thorington when I should be sending work emails. But I left at five, came home, spent fifteen minutes in bed staring at the ceiling and begging myself to let me nap, and then got up and went to Des Amis, where I worked for three and a half hours over a steak and a couple of glasses of wine. I happened to be sitting next to what was possibly the douchiest first date I've ever witnessed (my own included), in which they talked about venture capital and pilot licenses and United Global Services membership and meeting Richard Branson and Christmas in the Caribbean, etc., etc. Ugh. Thorington would not approve.
But perhaps the fact that I just used a fictional character of my own making to judge them says more about me than it does about them. Oops. So I came home, took care of a couple of other things, and sent the draft over to my editor with a long email of questions. And now I must sleep so that I can get up, take some meetings, and generally slog - but I have high hopes that I can maybe take tomorrow night off, which is something I don't really even know the meaning of anymore. Goodnight!
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