So I didn’t write during the day.

And then the in-laws were here this evening.  Until Margie loaded them into the car to head off to the airport.

And then I fiddled around a bit.

And browsed a bit.

And …

Started writing.

And wrote.  And rolled along.  And wondered how I was going to get through the scene, and where the situation was taking me.

And Margie returned, and I was still writing.

And I did a word count.  49,999.  I kid you not.

“Are you done yet?” Chrys whispered in a harsh tone.

“Just about,” I said.

And I wrote some more. And …

Huzzah! If I do say so myself.

Now, the story isn’t finished. But unlike last year, I actually have an idea of what’s happening between here and there.  And I think I can actually get it done.

And I want to.

So I’m writing a somewhat noir urban fantasy detective novel set in 1951 San Francisco. What sort of playlist am I listening to?

I bought some albums to go along with the story, as well as pulling a few existing items. I strove for a mix of 40s classics, plus some 50s/60s genre-specific items.

• The Best of James Bond – 30th Anniversary Edition (Various)
• Big Bands – Music from the War Years (BBC Big Band Orchestra)
• Crime Jazz – Music in the First Degree (Various)
• Crime Jazz – Music in the Second Degree (Various)
• Crime Scene USA – Classic Film Noir (Various)
• Film Noir! (Various)
• Goldfinger (John Barry)
• Moviola (John Barry)
• Moviola II: Action & Adventure (John Barry)
• On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (John Barry)
• The Only Big Band CD You’ll Ever Need (Various)
• The Shadow (Jerry Goldsmith)
• Songs that Got Us Through WWII (Various)
• The Crime Scene (Various)
• The Women of WWII (Various)
• You Only Live Twice (John Barry)

Plus, two renditions of “Runaway” by Del Shannon, the original and the “Crime Story” version.

First off, I give thanks to my Sainted Wife, who has not only put up with my NaNoWriMoing, but has been actively supportive of it.

I also give thanks to my Talented Daughter who, with minimal foot-dragging and haranguing, has been doing a great job writing this year, too — and has, in so doing, made it easier for me to do so.

(I have to also give thanks to my In-Laws, who have put up with my Anti-Social Writing Bouts whilst they are here, having traveled here just to see me, headphones stuffed over my hears, leaning over a keyboard.)

*     *     *

All that having been said, I’m pleased by how the past few days have worked out.  Kay and I did a writing session yesterday pre-Thanksgiving Guests, for an hour.  That got us a little ways in, albeit short for me.  And then today I was able to crack down for a while and get up to my necessary mark.

“Why don’t you ask Roger?”

“I’m asking you.”

Josie leaned back in her chair. “Look, Chrys, I like you, and I like Rog. I am not getting in the middle between the two of you, if you’re having some sort of tiff.”

I leaned over toward her. “I didn’t ask you to pass judgment on what was going on,” I said. “I was asking you for information.”

She crossed her arms. She wasn’t the type to intimidate easily. “Call the Operator, sweetie.”

I reached out, taking one wrist and pulling it to the side, turning it slightly. She gasped, slipped out of the chair to one knee. “I am not inclined to banter, Josie. Tell me what I want to know.”

One  more Write-In scheduled, tomorrow, and then the last three days of NaNoWriMo. I will, in fact, hit my word count, if not the end of the story. Looking forward to it!

The next couple of days are going to be dicey, between Thanksgiving Day tomorrow, and a post-Thanksgiving game day Friday.  So Kay and I made it a point to come to the Write-In at Panera this evening.

Which was enough to get me to, and beyond, the target 40K for today.  Kay, too, got back into the black (which will be visible in the sidebar graph once I key it into her story and get the official count).  So, yay for us!

“C’mon, Donne. You’re small potatoes, y’know, but I heard of you. Who’s paying you?”

I shrugged. “Couldn’t say, Dino.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Donne.”

If only he knew. “C’mon, Dino. It’s private detective, y’know? If i start telling any guy who asks, I might as well call myself a public detective, right?”

“Maybe I’m not just any guy, y’know?”

“If I worked for you, would you want me telling people that?”

“Fair enough. Other hand, would your employer rather have you dead then revealing who the fuck they are?”

Well, there was a loaded question.

So, I still have to do some writing work tomorrow (and Friday), but I’m confident we can make it happen.  And the final mad rush toward Tuesday and 50K.

Will the story be finished by then?  Doesn’t seem likely.  Which is its own future challenge for December …

Well, after a few days of, um, NOT WRITING, I’m caught up to where I should be (if not to where I could be).  I managed to plow through the Big Argument, and am staggering along toward the next conflict, which may turn out to be a bit painful.

I got up, walked all the way to the door, which seemed a minor triumph, snagged my hat, and exited. I went down the hallway to the little washroom the tenants shared, splashed a bit of water on my face. My reflection looked back at me. “Now what are you going to do?” it asked.

“I dunno.”

“She’s gone.”

“I know.”

“And she’s probably not coming back.”

I stared at myself. I didn’t look terribly impressed at the glare. “You don’t know that.”

“But you do. It was all perfect, and now you’ve ruined it.”

I punched my fist into the mirror, which starred out in a crazyquilt pattern. Each facet looked back at me and grinned.

I’m planning on Kay and I attending the Write-In tomorrow evening, which will hopefully drive me far enough ahead that I won’t completely collapse during the Thursday/Friday business.