Kept My Word To Myself

Bob is complete in working draft. Parts of this novella are very, very good.

I'm gravely dissatisfied with a dozen other parts that I already know about, and will probably be gravely dissatisfied with plenty more when I next read it through. The closing sentence is wrong. The working title is misleading in a way that cannot be permitted to stand. The diction is excessively lyrical for the last fifteen or twenty pages and desperately needs to be toned down to fit with the rest of the story. I'm sure the legal details are in need of serious help.

That's fine. It's a first draft. Its job is to exist. Anything else it does in addition to existing is gravy.

Outside, the birds are singing about sunrise. Maybe I should sleep soon.