DONE.

[kiya]

Done done done done done done done done Done done done done done done done done Done done done done done done done done mushroom mushroom.

Section 181: Tensions and learning to grieve. Not written. 990 words. Done.
Section 182: Dealing with Garet. Not written. 650 words. Done.
Section 183: Loose ends and Lita. Not written. In progress. 352 words so far. 1225 words. Done.
Section 184: Fear the smuggler lord. Not written. 494 words. Done.
Section 185: Last reconciliations. Not written. 976 words. Done.
Section 186: Cathedral scene. Not written. 249 words. Done.
Section 187: Epilogue. Not written. 345 words. DONE.

Whitney . . . finishes 186.
Whitney takes in a breath, lets it out, starts on the epilogue.
ibn_Firnas [ibnfirnas] says, "That's rock stardom, Whit."
Whitney says, "DONE."
ibn_Firnas says, "You're shitting me."
Whitney says, "DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE."
ibn_Firnas says, "Dude, you just wrote a -book-."
Whitney says, ". .. what, it's not like I haven't done it before."
ibn_Firnas says, "Yeah, but I wasn't there to see it, so for all intents and purposes, it didn't happen."
Whitney grins.
Whitney says, "I see you've got your badge for the Junior Solipsism Society."
Tesla [oneironaut] cackles.
Tesla, also, carries Whitney around the MU* on his shoulders, throws streamers.
Whitney says, "Tesla -- would you look at the epilogue and tell me if it works?"
Tesla says, "Sure."
Whitney says, "Sent. It's short."
Whitney says, "Could I quote you guys at my LJ?"
ibn_Firnas says, "Certainly not."
Whitney says, ". . . fuck. Final wordcount: 162,796."
ibn_Firnas says, "By which I mean, sure."
ibn_Firnas says, "That's a lot of words."
Whitney says, "No shit!"
Tesla says, "Jebus."
Tesla says, "It does work, though I don't know if the repetition in the second sentence of the first paragraph and the first sentence of the second paragraph is deliberate; it seems redundant to me."
Tesla adds, "Aww. Crazies in love."
Whitney says, "It is redundant. That's an editing error."
Tesla says, "Thought so."
Whitney tweak tweak tweak "Make that 162,770."
Tesla giggles.
Whitney says, "I've known how it -ends- for ages. It was just -getting- there."
Whitney says, "But you see why I knew that was the final image I was aiming for, yes?"
Tesla says, "Yep."
Whitney beams, starts to tilt to port sort of dramatically. Which is bad, because that's where the edge of the bed is.
Whitney says, "So cowardice and sleep and DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE."
ibn_Firnas says, "So when do I get to read it, eh?"
Whitney says, ". . . I may be soliciting beta readers sometime in the near future. I've got a couple of people who've been asking if there are positions available."
Tesla says, "I've got dibs already, right?"
Whitney says, "You've seen most of it! Well, selected portions in random order."
Tesla says, "Putting them together into a novel is your job, I'm not about to do it for you!"
Whitney snickers.
Whitney stops logging this conversation for LJ. If you say anything funny after this point, I'm not responsible for it.

A book! Boooooook! Ooooooh, it's a boooooooooook.

162,770 words of first draft, presuming I can subtract properly. (Several portions of the file aren't actually, y'know, book, they're notes.)

Okay. It's quarter of freaking seven, I'm supposed to be getting up at some point to go see people, I fall down.