Okay, enough with the phlegm already! How much fluid can one chick’s head produce? Geesh!

I haven’t been writing as much as editing the last couple of days. Hence, the word count has only advanced to 66,412 in the last two days. I felt like I had to go back now and fix some things that were bugging me. Less is definitely more in some places. But from here on out, it’s a race to the finish line.

I’m getting closer to decision time about my next project. I sent a critical email and received a positive response (although, some issues will no doubt have to be worked out later). I guess the only issue I’m considering is that I worry some crazy asshole will decide to locate and harass my poor parents. But then, Haven Kimmell wrote two memoirs about her family and used absolutely no pseudonyms or relocations.

Meanwhile, as soon as I wrap this up, I’m going into town regularly with my camera and filming every single fountain that strikes my fancy. I already know the main fountain fey in my story for the MELUSINE book, but I want to make sure I don’t lose the details of Aix as a city — how it feels, how it sounds. The Frenchman recommends that I start interviewing the locals about fountain lore. In French. Oy! But that, too, is becoming less troublesome. Last night, I was watching the news with The Frenchman and suddenly I understood. Can you imagine? After many months of staring at people’s lips and trying to get some notion of what the hell they’re saying, to sit down one night in front of the television and simply comprehend for the first time? Maybe it was a fluke. I’m not sure. Maybe the phlegm is acting as some kind of translating agent, like a Babel Fish in my ear rather than mere congestion in my Eustachian tubes. Who knows?

Here’s me, writing and stuff.

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