I'm short.
Today's my last day
on the job. I think.
I may be on standby.
I may be called back.
I wrote three books in three and a half months.
Sheetmetal Fabrication. 188 pages.
Electronics Technician. 193 pages.
Machined Parts Technician. 524 pages.
This is impressive. That's an aggressive schedule.
I don't know anyone else who could have done it.
That's all. That's it. It's over. I wasn't busted.
I was reverted to my permanent rank: yardbird.
In the same period, I wrote HELD-IN-ABEYANCE (HIA):
TALKING TO MYSELF and HOUSEHUSBAND: A
CORRESPONDENCE NOVEL. In six parts and five parts.
I guess "Halloween" goes on the end of HOUSEHUSBAND.
Home for the Holidays, or, If We Make It Through December
didn't make it. I combine HELD-IN-ABEYANCE (HIA)
and HOUSEHUSBAND and call them On Assignment:
Four Months of Daily Typewriting. I write a sixth part
to HOUSEHSUBAND, and end up with an even dozen.
"In My Room: Immobilized in Point and Shoot."
Goes to the end of October.