The bad news is, the cyst infection is still... bad. Ugly, even. It seems to have improved in some ways, as it doesn't cover the same amount of area it previously had, but it's still very red and very swollen and very sore. It's also developed something resembling blisters or, at the risk of grossing out more than just my immediate family, big zits on the surface of a festering red bump. I'm keeping it loosely covered with gauze now, to avoid bumping it and to relieve the people around me from having to look at it. The doctor was out today, but she or her nurse are supposed to call me back tomorrow. I'm thinking at this point that two more days of Keflex ain't gonna do it.
The good news is, the Muse is in a beautiful, generous mood so far this week. She dances, she sings, she smiles, and when I sit down at the computer and ask politely, "Story please?" she shouts "YES!" and tells me everything I want to know and then some--as long as I'm willing to sit still and listen and not butt in while she's talking. (Which is only fair, I think.) So yes, I've crossed the midpoint of the roughly estimated 100,000 words worth of novel. My makeshift plot outline indicates I have yet to cross the estimated midpoint of the story, however, so the rough may run slightly longer. Of course, I still have a section of snippets and old scenes tacked onto the end of the draft which I've been cutting and moving as I find homes for them, but which will not all find a home in the final ms, I'm sure. So, you know, a rough is just a rough. But more is way better than not enough, especially in the first draft. I'd much rather have to sand and polish than have to create entirely new stuff to shore up a too-thin novel.
I should maybe see about sending my Muse some flowers. Or chocolate. Maybe both?