Well, I am off to finish my book.

That is the plan, at least what is going to happen.

It turns out that somehow I have gotten to within striking distance of the end of the novel, except for the fact that the official end of the novel is one of those things that gets farther and farther away the closer you get to it. There always seems to be just one more chapter, one more scene to really, really get to where you should be.

I may have to just write the last scene, and then stumble my way toward it from where I now am.

But, whatever. I am going to a friend’s condo, which is essentially (for me) a Sensory Deprivation Chamber, in the best possible sense of the term. There is no internet thingie (no World Wide Waste of time), no email, no television, no IMing, no YouTube, no text messaging. My cell phone doesn’t even work there. AND it looks like I am going to have to go a few days without hearing Bob Dylan singing about Marvin O’Gravel Balloonface.

I tell you, I feel like a pioneer.

I don’t even think there are very many neighbors in the condo complex at this time of year: it’s kind of a winter resort and then a summer place to hang out. In the early, early spring like now, before the golf course opens, it will be just me and birch trees. I don’t know my way around the area well enough to go out looking for people to talk to, and since I have virtually no sense of direction, I can just barely make it to the place and make it home without disastrous lostness in the hills of New Hampshire.

In other words, it is perfect.

I’ve packed the car, my notebooks, my laptop, the printer, extra paper, a hard copy of the novel, my bathrobe and slippers, and my teapot. I’ve told everybody goodbye, patted the dog, written two thank-you notes that were hanging over my head, announced to my mother I have to be excused from our nightly chat about the price of watermelons…and well, I’m off.

If I write fast, I get to come back home soon. And then I get to revise, which is my very favorite part of writing a book. :-)