14 excellent pages this morning (to page 304) and then I took off and arrived at the Episcopal retreat center. My room is like a cell (nun-like, not prisoner-like) and it's got narrow beds and a cross on the wall. Not so sure I can get Reno's pants off in a situation like this. (I'm at the retreat for the League of Vermont Writers, where I'm giving a talk on romance writing). I have to hike a bit to get to the lake but then, I need the exercise. There's something about writing near water that's always good for me. I think, when we move, we're going to have to find a place on a lake (or at least a pond). It feeds my soul (oh, God, this place is brainwashing me).
Lake Champlain is gorgeous, and because I'm feeling nun-like I'll save you from a map of the place, which looks a bit like a piece of female anatomy. It's big and blue (the lake, not the piece of female anatomy) and surrounded by trees, and it even comes with its own lake monster, fondly referred to as Champ.
Jenny Crusie says this place serves me right -- tell people I'm a nun and of course I'll end up in a cell. If I'd known I would have brought my nun's habit. Except that wouldn't go over too well with the diocese, I expect.
Still, I think I need to write something really saucy when I retire to my cell tonight. Just in honor of the occasion.
I'm on the home stretch now. The last hundred pages always go really fast. I'm trying to do it without heading to a motel -- money's tight and I've better self-discipline.
And I think it really will be done in 12 days.