“Different TDY, Same Shit.”

That’s the final line of my spy novel. It amuses me every time I read it because the TDY the assistant is wrapping up is handling Stanley. And it’s Stanley who’s asked the question. The hwole novel the assistant has quietly propped Stanley up or soothed his ego as the situation called for. It’s this easy little tweak of the idiot the assistant is assigned to run rather than being able to do real work.

Not that the spy novel is done by any stretch of the imagination. But I wrote the final chapter during the first Nano I worked on the spy novel in. Yes, you read that right. I worked on this spy novel for 2 Nanowrimos and the year in between. And still it’s not done. I’ve only got about 35K words. I expect another five years will get it done. Laughing. Given that half the year I am working on a nano, researching it, writing it, editing it. That doesn’t leave much time for Galatea, Talon, Gareth, and Stanley. On the other hand it provides a much needed vacation from these characters so I don’t hate them, because after three plus years, I’m a little tired of them every now and then.

I went to writer’s cafe last night. I love when I’m working, editing as it was in this case, and I’m not wholly absorbed in my work so that I have twenty percent of my brain available to catch the amusing snippets of words from other conversations. My writers group is having an Old Fashioned Radio Show on May 27th at Boxleys in North Bend. There was lots of conversation about that tonight which I won’t repeat here, LOL. Then an odd discussion on writing advice from Stephen King. But I think my fave was when I got drawn into a conversation that started like this…If Castle had a cross over episode with NCIS who would Rick bond with best? Hello, Tony of course. But that led me down a long rabbit hole of amusement which ended with me explaining that soon I would be back at the Friday writers cafe because my son would be done with co-op on Fridays and I hadn’t enrolled him in any classes on Friday for next year after a long debate over education versus my writing career with my husband. The woman I was talking to got that “oh you poor dear, I understand” look on her face so I felt compelled to explain that I had been arguing for Henry’s education, while my husband had been arguing for the writers cafe. She says, “What incredible support.” To which I could say quite easily, “yes, it was. My husband is amazing in all the ways that really matter.”

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