Word count: 12326 I came home from Minicon with a mild sore throat, which lasted only a day or so, but I’ve been feeling “faintly blug” ever since. Not sick enough to stay home from work, but too sick to go to the gym and too tired to do much writing. It’s been a week and I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. Nonetheless, somehow I have written almost 1000 words since Monday. Not bad, considering. Might even get some more done tomorrow. In some ways I feel the plot is moving much too quickly for a novel — I have a short-story writer’s instincts, and I can definitely feel myself trying to wrap things up in 10,000 words or less. On the other hand, the death of Clarity’s father is the incident that kicks the whole plot in motion, and the old coot hasn’t even died yet. (Though he’s not at all a well cat… he’ll be gone by the end of this chapter, probably less than 2000 words away.)