Rest. Resurrected Post.
A few days ago I finished the first draft of the novel I���m working on. Huzzah. Glory and trumpets. Time to set it aside, gain some distance from it so I can approach it with fresh eyes for the second draft. Normally this means moving on to the next project. Now, I have a couple of books I���d like to start outlining. But which one depends on an outside factor. Meaning I need to wait. Meaning a chance to rest.
All work and no play make Ken a dull boy.
Repeat.
But, as I am resting, I figured I might as well do it properly. I have friends with a cabin on the Salmon River, sitting in the lap of Mt. Hood. I think I���ve been spending the occasional weekend there for nearly thirty years. Wow. Three decades. I feel as if I���ve established a sort of house guest���s adverse possession. Call it Kato Kaelin squatter���s rights. Anyway, I took MBW and the HA up. We had fun sledding down the fairway of a nearby golf course. I managed to overeat, imbibe precisely the right amount, read, play cards, and ��� when the HA graciously permitted it ��� rest.
But I am getting antsy. The need to commence outlining is growing. I may have to make an arbitrary decision in order to start scratching this itch.
As problems go, I���ll take this one.
