That’s what happened in Chapter 12, which I finished yesterday. And a Very Bad Thing for the Health and Sanity of Our Hero happened in Chapter 13, which I started yesterday, and need to finish today.
So a noble experiment draws to a close. I highly recommend a good dose of mountainous solitude for anyone wanting to focus on a project, be it a novel, a poem, a painting or perhaps the conception of a child.
Thanks for tuning in to the Picayune-Democrat‘s daily blow-by-blow (hee hee, I said "blow") report of the Birth of a Novel. Except it’s not quite done yet. It’s crowned, but it’s a bit stuck at the shoulders. I thought it was ending with chapter 16, but it looks like we’re going to make it an even 20 instead.
Mad props to the good folk of Silverton and elsewhere, especially Mike and Heather at the Scarlet House, Sherry, Ken and John at Handlebars, Jim and his sweetie at Red Mountain Motel, and crazy squeaky-voiced waitress chick at Romero’s.
Today: my stay is extended by another glorious 36 or so hours. Jim and Da Boys are rolling in this afternoon for some quality Silverton time: we’re going to go four-wheeling up to Cunningham Gulch today, and tomorrow the plan is to tour the Old One Hundred Mine. We get to descend a thrilling 1500 feet into the bowels of the mountain on board an authentic mine train. And then go gold panning. Whee!