I was writing my novel, and came to what was a flimsy ending, saying in one paragraph what should have been said for another thirty pages, probably. This made me feel like I was done with it for a couple of days, so I started editing it from the beginning. I kept having a nagging feeling that I wanted to write more, and felt bad I had ended it.... As if I didn't have the power to undo that.. or do it up better, rather. So, tonight I deleted that last paragraph, and I will be continuing to live with my characters for a while longer. Forget trying to edit on the computer; I need a hard copy for that, and have no ink in the printer right now.
My niece, who was due on Nov. 27th, still hasn't given birth yet. She is anxious as can be, and we are all anxious for her. Come on, little guy, come out and greet the world!
I am finding it hard to believe it is December. I'm not feeling very Christmassy yet, and I think that could change when the baby comes.
The 18th anniversary of my father's death is December 8th, so this is usually a rather down period of time for me. It would be something if the baby was born on that day, transforming it completely. Of course, it is already transforming this time, I believe.
I think about the 18 years since my father has died. I have never been the same since. I never truly regained the joie de vivre that I used to have. He was the dearest father, and my best friend. Such a large presence in my life that his absence is a huge hole unable to be filled, no matter how many years go by.