One week the oncologist says, "We're going to get you WELL!" the next, she says, "Try not to think too far ahead. Just enjoy each day." So I guess it's supposed to be a kind of cancer vacation.
Her latest remark did reset my personal doomsday clock.
The one thing left over from thee shortest bucket list in the world, my bucket list, was to finish my novel The Wind Spindle. I hve no idea if I'll have time or not.
As a person on chemo my immune system is compromised. I go to radiation clinic every day and then go home, although sometimes we do stop for groceries and at the post office. So even though I'm a complusive hand washer and surface cleaner, not everyone is. Coronavirus could give me somwwhat quick, though wickedly unpleaseant, exit.
I'm hoping NOT and like I said, taking strong precautions of my own. But I can't control what others do.
SO...feeeling that second hand zooming toward my personal midnight, I decided I'm going to throw part 1 of the novel on here.
It's a VERY rough draft. I never got around to hiring an editor. My writre's group helped me as much as they could, but again, it's ROUGH. And if you aren't a fan of hard sci-fi or feminist sci-fi you aren't likely to find it rivetting.
But I did get requests, from deqr friends, who want to read what I've been working on.
SO, DUCK! Incoming rough draft......
Update.....Change of Plan.
Sorry 'bout that. The "brain fog" predicted by the oncologist has indeed settled over the mountain top. But before I post chapters from the novel they NEED to be cleaned up, and my computer, in the midst of an update, somehow decided to disable a mouse driver, so I'm unalbe to eidt as I want to. JIm spent hours on this machine already but no idea how much longer it will be.
SO, driving in fog. I may evne have time to get used to this....
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