I now have 40 pages of the romance novel. Given when I started it, this isn't actually that great, but fits and starts aside, I remain committed to the process. I'm sure the pacing is off; I'm accustomed to writing poems, where the point, so to speak, gets made very quickly. This whole thing may be quite bad, who knows?

Dinner tonight was wild mushroom ravioli and a mango milkshake. I know that's an odd combination, but it was delicious.