Bollywood and Writingwood

The rain was nearly over when I woke up this morning, and for some reason the thought of slugs eating through my garden made me get out of bed immediately. There were a few slugs causing problems, but once I was up, I ate my breakfast and built a fire to burn the trash that’s been accumulating. I couldn’t have a fire recently because it’s been so dry.

The smoke got rid of the few mosquitoes entirely so I took advantage of that to nearly finish the tin shed extension. I only have a few more minor pieces of metal to add and the shed will be done. I then started building the corrals that I’m going to use to hold the boards and drying ash I took from the stream after the beavers cut them down, and other buildings supplies. I have plans for the ash, such as making axe handles, so I’ve been storing them, as well as a few pieces of hornbeam for a few years.

In the afternoon I loaded my blog entry from yesterday and the parts of Lost in the Tunnels I had written. I ran a spell check but didn’t really work on the novel in any other way. I need to write some more and then go through the entire thing. It is sitting at thirty-three thousand words now, so it only needs another six or seven thousand and it will be finished.

Then, since I was lazy, I watched the film Samidha told me about, Well Done, Abba, which was a comedy, drama, and comment about corruption in India. It was fun to watch and the big laptop maintained its charge, although it didn’t add any charge. Too bad. I’d like to run it at night on battery and then let it charge in the day, but my adapter for a car doesn’t seem able to handle the amperage required. It can maintain only.

This evening I did more sorting of lumber and straightening out in the tin shed itself, now that I have more room. The roofing that I had stored there is now on the shed extension roof, and other lumber has been incorporated into its building as well. I should try not to accumulate more lumber.

At night I did some more writing on the latest novel. It is progressing and I can see where it is going to go for this book anyway, the second in the series.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
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