Day 8 - and the plot thickens.

Well, no. Not really. Or maybe. I can't tell, because I've lost track, and I'm not supposed to look back.  Forward, ever forward. I may be writing three or four different books.

I drove down to The Vault this afternoon, carrying my new purse/pack, which held my netbook, two reference books, cell phone, camera (just in case), wallet, and water bottle. I think I'm going to like this 'purse'.  I hoped that some other NaNovelists would come in while I was there, but once again I was on my own. I consoled myself by ordering an Americano and pumpkin pie.

I saw the pumpkin pie in The Vault's cooler last week, and ever since then, I've been craving pumpkin pie. I ordered it and started writing. When the proprietor brought me my pie, I thanked him and went back to work. Then I looked over at the pie -

"Do you want whipped cream?" he (the proprietor - not the pie) had asked me.

"Just a little bit, please," I replied.

Well. I guess the amount of whipped cream on the pie was 'a little bit' in relation to the slice of pie, which was the size of  Nebraska, but really, it wasn't all that little. If there had been anyone sitting at the table with me, I would have felt compelled to share my pie, but I was alone. So I ate the whole thing - and now I remember that I had my camera with me. I should have taken a picture. I think I was being Cleo* for the day.

*That requires some explanation.  For a while, when my kids were little, we had a guinea pig, one of those short-haired, tricolour, common-or-garden guinea pigs. His name was Cleo. Cleo was not only a pet, but a four-legged composter. When I made salad or prepared fresh vegetables, I would just chuck the peelings, etc., into Cleo's cage, and he would make short work of them. I think I was being Cleo today, getting rid of the old pie, making way for the new. Not that I'm complaining. It was delicious.

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To change the subject - just for a moment - I must tell you a story about Cleo. There came a time when friends of mine were raising guinea pigs, and they decided that their gene pool needed some fresh material, so they asked me to put Cleo out to stud. "Sure," I said. "The poor guy has been all on his own. What a great idea!"  So off he went, poor little celibate Cleo, to spend a halcyon holiday in the midst of my friend's piggy harem. Two weeks later, my friend suggested that perhaps Cleo should come home. Fine. How had it gone? Were there little Cleos on the way?

"Actually," said my friend, "I think they've been playing bridge all this time."  Poor Cleo. He just didn't have a clue.

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By the time I left the Vault, I had gained ten pounds (or so I fear), but I had written 2,078 words, bringing my word count to 17,768.  When I got home, I decided I had earned some surfing time, so I was playing online, and I made a couple of great discoveries. First of all, there was this, courtesy of one of the NaNovelists wasting time at Facebook like me. It's a blog called how to write badly well. I love it.

Then I discovered that Bibliofreak is having a Kindle giveaway.  Oooooh. If you've been lusting after a Kindle, you may want to pop over to bibliofreakblog and have a look at the rules and regs.