August Sweeps - Day 198

 That's what my heart yearns for now, love and pride.

Today's the day I'll either finish "Hatchling," or discover it's not over yet, even at 32,000 words.  Or, I'll get into some kind of accident, and death will save me from having to work.

I decided to hike up a mountain again today, despite it being August, and in the high nineties out there.  Maybe I did have a death wish, some kind of psychological glitch that wants me to keel over with heat exhaustion instead of finish this story.  It may be the same mental saboteur that wants me to be forever alone.

Regardless, I hiked up the mountain for the third time this year, and though I sweated like crazy and had to sit down and drink part of my water on the way up, I made it up (and down) faster than I ever have before.  

The sunset was pretty, but when isn't it?

I think you could've filled a Mason jar with the amount of sweat I produced.

Charming, ain't it?

There were a lot of hikers up the mountain today, including some really attractive young people, going up when I was almost down--despite the fact that it was now nearly dark.  The first time I ever hiked up there, about twenty-five years ago, it was at night, but I've never gone at night again since.  Next time I do so, I'll do it at night.

I talked to Big today, wondering whether I should end the story where I'm thinking of ending it, or if it should continue.  Big remembered me saying that the story had stopped being about the titular hatchling and was now about two young people who fall in love, then lose that love, and that if that was what the story was about, then the ending was fine.  Finally, I decided just to write it, and if it felt like the end, the end it would be.

Well, I went ahead and wrote it, and I didn't know how I would end it--with dialogue, with a "they all lived happily ever after," with a kiss, or just with a look.  Turns out, it was with a couple of lines back and forth, and then . . . it only felt natural to type "the end."*

Big Anklevich told me how it felt to finish his second novel for the year this week.  The way he described it is how I feel when the prettiest girl in the room/town/world makes eye contact with me.  Of course, she always breaks the eye contact to look elsewhere, but I take what I can get.  Big asked me if I still get such a thrill from finishing my short stories.  Honestly, it's the same whether it's a story or a novel.  But like the end of a sweet vacation, there looms the frown-inducing knowledge that it all starts again tomorrow, and I'm basically back to one.

Sit-ups Today: 50
Sit-ups In August: 2859

This is also the first day that the writing was easier than the sit-ups.  After hiking for miles (and so strenuously), I got a leg cramp doing my sit-ups and had to stop.  I waited for the pain to subside, then I started up the exercise again, and my leg cramp came back, along with a smaller one in my other leg.  I took that for a sign and quit for the night.  Then I found I couldn't stand up because my leg hurt so much.  I think it's just overworking the leg muscles, but I can't say for sure.  We'll see if I'm good as new tomorrow.

Words Today: 1019
Words In August: 15,845

*I don't know why I refuse to capitalize those two words, but it has become something personal to me, to have lower case "the end" as the final bit of each story.  Then I'll usually write "A Word About The Story," and do a little author's note.  I've done it so many times that I'd hate to depart from that, even for novelty's sake.