I'm so far behind. But I got a lot of playwriting stuff done yesterday. stuff that needed to be done. a revison of incendiary and a curtain raiser for bee eater. so I don't feel like a total failure even though the novel has taken a backseat of late.
Word count 13910
first paragraph written today:
When I woke, Ariana was naked, standing on her toes reaching up, a paintbrush in one hand, lacquering a matchbook from the Red Light on her wall. I watched her from behind. Her claves curved like a runner. Was she a runner? Who was this girl? I followed her legs up to her round ass. I tried not to make any noise so I could just enjoy her there and watch her work. I noticed some fresh paint besides the matchbook. It took me a second to realize that it was a version of me, in reds and blues, like an early Picasso. My mouth was open and I was crying tears down the wall which became a river and ran into a lake buzzing with motorboats and water skiers.