In Which the Kitchen Sink Appears

27 January 2005

I have had the urge to contact people I haven't talked to in awhile lately, but the urge has been squashed for awhile, because I'm living so much inside my own head right now. They'd finish telling me what's going on with them, and then they'd say, "And how are you? What's going on with you?" And I would say, "I killed off a purple and a red notecard this morning and made three green ones into red." And then, really, what's left? "Oh. How...nice for you." "I have hopes of another three green into red before I have to start putting supper together. And maybe another red gone." "Um, terrific." "Also I'm reading Pawn in Frankincense." "Good, how 'bout them Wi -- oh." "Yeah. Oh."

But I am reading Pawn in Frankincense, and it's lovely, and I love Philippa so much. She was my favorite part of The Disorderly Knights, and now here she is again.

I think this is the kitchen sink draft. I think I'm trying to jam everything in, including the kitchen sink. In fact, one of the notecards for Chapter 4 could actually be interpreted that way. Sigh. All right, I guess that's what I need to do next: put in the kitchen sink, so then I can just know that I have and I can just move on: kitchen sink, check.

I was writing this on Wednesday, just as I ought, and then the phone rang. It was Karina! And we now know that the long e-mails on a variety of topics are not a fluke of the printed word. Karina and I are just like that. (And Karina is definitely in the group of people to whom I can say, "Three red ones and an orange!" and have her say, "Great!" and mean it.) And I ended up with a net of zero words on the draft, which, considering how many gross of words were added and how many gross of words removed...quite amusing.

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