I have completed 14 chapters, for about 66,000 words. I thought this book was going to be 14 chapters long, but it looks like there will have to be an additional chapter because I still haven't made my way to the scene that makes the book necessary. I have no idea at all how long chapter 15 will be, but I swear that's the final chapter in this novel, which was supposed to be a 50,000-word novella. Things are getting out of hand chez Bailey.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Forty years, more or less, before Gemma wished me good luck with Josephina, Gemma’s virgin mother walked south along the highway under a shimmering white sky. A few cars slowed as one man after another offered Mona a ride to wherever she might be going. I’ll walk, Mona said. It’s not far. Well where are you headed, Miss? Not far, thanks. By now she could see the smudge of Albuquerque ahead and she’d fallen into a rhythm, her arms swinging at her sides, her steps regular and long and the sun felt good on her shoulders. Fair-skinned as the O’Hurleighy women are, Aunt Mona never burned and the thought of how brown and glowing her flesh would be when she returned to Roberto pleased her. The air tasted of diesel and dust and Mona suspected that a blister was coming on her right heel but she walked on, satisfied and determined. Love is an energy, hope is a current passing through our bodies, the future an electromagnetic field in which our lives vibrate forever. Mona would never be this happy again and she almost—but not quite—knew that this moment was the center point, the fulcrum around which everything else moved for her. Almost, but not quite. She walked on, swinging her arms, until she came to the city in the desert. Her first stop was a gas station where she bought a bottle of Coke and a pack of cigarettes. A mile to the west, turkey vultures hovered over the Rio Grande valley, tiny pricks of black against the sky.