And everything but sleep

Finally! Finally, the end of this book has revealed itself to me, in all its terrible angst-ridden glory. I have nearly a thousand words of it now, in bits and pieces. Mind you, there are still huge swaths leading up to the end that aren't done, but at least now I know how to get there. This is a huge and painful relief.

94345 / 100000 words. 94% done!

The search for an epigraph continues. I threw a placeholder up, from Swinburne's "The Garden of Proserpine":

I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep.

I adore it, but I'm not sure it's exactly right. But cod knows I'm weary of this novel right now.

(no subject)

Right now my schedule seems to be: go to work and angst about the book for eight hours; come home and despair; make tea; stop despairing and start writing. I would like to skip the despairing bit and move straight into the writing.

96300 / 100000 words. 96% done!

Darling: "We are darkness and dust. It may be our nature to hunger for warmth and light, but we must extinguish them or be seared." Yeah, yeah, vampires are cheesy.
Tyop: lunched instead of lunged. A common typo when I'm hungry.
Mean things: Punch in the jaw; watching someone die, even if he was an asshole.
Deaths: Yes!

One death out of a handful accomplished. Too bad I still haven't written any of the bits leading up to it. :P

The combination of a deadline, Black Friday week, and PMS is definitely against the Geneva conventions.