Just yesterday, I heard a “honk of geese” (that’s not the collective noun, but it should be) and looked up to see two V’s flying southeast over my house. That annual flight pattern always makes me think it’s time to get ready for winter.

All month long, I’ve been meaning to do the math to figure out how much farther I’ve faux-walked (treadmill) and faux-biked (stationary) on the virtual trek I started down the Mississippi two years ago in October. Less sedentary folks would have made the journey multiple times by now. But I’ve been too busy to find each day’s tally. I do know I’ve made progress this year, but knowing the actual distance will have to wait. I can already pledge to try to do better next year, though.

I did make an actual car trek to Alabama in the beginning of the month to visit my youngest and his family. (No pix, sorry.) The worst of that trip was the day I–the avowed five-hour-a-day-max driver–was stuck on a highway that I later learned was closed by state police for two hours to conduct a high speed chase. Their high speeds meant turtle pace and stand-stills for the rest of us. I missed an early rerouting that might have saved me some of the nine hours I eventually spent in the car. Threw me off the rest of the ride home. (The visit, by the way, was wonderful.)

But the biggest delay in Mississippi River math early in the month was making final revisions on my short story for the Sisters in Crime Guppy Chapter eighth anthology, Gone Fishin’: Crime Takes a Holiday. (It’ll be out in February.) It’s my first fiction publication and I’m probably more excited about it than I should be. But I have always loved short stories. The first fiction I ever wrote was a short story–science fiction–about a lab that reached absolute zero. This one is about a vacation in Croatia that goes terribly wrong for a nanny and her ward. It’s called “Blood on the White Rose.” I can hardly wait to hold it in my hands.

Making the changes the editor suggested (after finishing the ones my critique group suggested) was different. He saw some clear holes, only one of which I knew I hadn’t dealt with well. I hope it’s better now. I have no idea if my post-acceptance experience was typical. But I’m working on another short story, so, with luck, I’ll find out. In any case, it was one of the challenges keeping me from the Mississippi walk math. And I’m anxious to get back to my short story now.

I’ve added two writing sessions to my routine this month. I need more time on task (and, apparently, less doing Mississippi math). And I signed up for the Sisters in Crime November Marathon. With luck, that will help me make progress on my novel! I’ll keep you posted.

A bientôt!