When all the snow finally melts in Calgary, everyone who has managed to survive the winter without bolting for a place where the cold doesn’t live in your bones is greeted by the sight of everything that was stuck under snow for all eight months of winter.
It’s not a pretty sight.
Under all of that snow is nothing but cigarette butts. Mountains of them. There’s some garage to even things out, but it kind of just adds to the generally feeling that everything is filthy and dirty. So now I walk around feeling like I live in a cold ashtray. It’s hard to enjoy this place.
I’m venting more and more about Calgary because I’ve been thinking about making it a central location in the novel. If a draft IV ever happens, I’ll write in some significant additions to setting. Previously, I had thought that the setting of Going to California was unimportant, it was the destination that truly mattered. I’ve been having some opposing feelings to that idea now though.
Also, my computer crashed and erased the whole thing. So now I have to retype it from the physical copy anyway. No better excuse for a Draft IV than that. However, a part of me just wants to polish up the third draft and send it out. Because at what point is something finished? I feel like adding more and more and more to the novel isn’t me editing the novel, but me writing a different one onto the bones of the old one.
Anyway, the record I’m listening to needs to be flipped. I was just writing to kill time, and the blog needed an update. Hope at least some of the words pleased you.