So here’s the state of, well, everyone I know — at least I think so.

To one degree or another we’re all full of this slippery spidery anxiety, driving us along our days. The election is tomorrow. The election is tomorrow.

Here in Pennsylvania, there is no early voting. Here in Philadelphia, we anticipate huge turn-out, as our very blue city, with its wonderfully diverse population, will attempt to single-handedly hand Pennsylvania over to Senator Barack Obama. That he’s African American is really only a small part of the story, let me tell you.

For some voters, sure, that makes the deal all the sweeter. It’s a beautiful thing, and many black people I know feel a sense of awe and redemption, that IN THEIR LIFETIME, that it may come to pass that a person of color could possibly approach the White House. Yes, that is incredible. But you know what? The white people I know feel that way, too. We Liberal White Folk are also in awe and feel a sense of redemption, that IN OUR LIFETIME, it could really and truely come to pass that a person of color could step into the chief executive role of the nation.

But much, much more important to me than Obama’s racial heritage is the fact that he is so clearly a man with values that match closely with my own. McCain says he’s the most liberal senator there is. Hooray! GREAT news!!!

The polls are encouraging, but believe me, we are all so anxious for this to be over, for it to go well, to see at last, an overwhelmingly BLUE nation. A victory, and not by a narrow margin.

We are all planning, when will we vote? What’ll we do if it’s a long line — and will our teachers be late to school? (If it’s a long should should we come back later? just wait? Let someone go first if they won’t vote if they have to wait?) What about first time voters who don’t understand what they need to do? Will they need assistance? Will there be dirty tricksters trying to keep them from their designated polling places? Will the rolls be inaccurate? Will names be omitted for new voters?

And on and on and on. The internal soundtrack of worry is a dull roar in my ears. I don’t think I am the only one.

Meanwhile, oh yeah, I am writing a novel. The genre is fantasy. I’ve put down about 6000 words thus far. Despite my earlier starry-eyed glaze over my hero Neil Gaiman, I am no longer discouraged. I’m JUST WRITING. I’m DOING THIS.

If the election goes bad, I’ll immerse myself in the novel. If the election goes well, I’ll celebrate by, um, immersing myself in the novel, too. Actually first I’ll loll about, wondering if somehow the election will get reversed, or challenged, or besmirched. Then I’ll stutter in happy disbelief. A few days will pass and I’ll find myself able to speak again. THEN, I’ll immerse myself into the fantasy world of Calla, Eric, and Madame Bonery.

We interrupt this novel to remind you that Neil Gaiman is amazing.

He writes…. by hand.

In charming little notebooks that he picks up in Venice.

I write, by contrast, on my Macbook, and the drivel that I am writing, well, it’s fantasy of one kind or another.

Oh, Neil Gaiman, I just adore the little gravestones you drew at the end of the chapters. Sigh.

Please, if anyone out there is reading this blog, remember this: 1) it’s possible to write a novel in one month’s time and 2) if by novel, you mean putting 50,000 near one another in some semblance of a prose and 3) the most important thing to do if you haven’t done so already is read the works of astoundingly good writers. May I suggest you immediately stop what you are doing (ie, reading this blog) and go pick up one of Neil’s books?

I swoon, I swoon…. by the light of the crescent moon, a bit of icecream on a spoon….

It’s underway, I’ve started! My novel’s first 2000 words have been strung together, sometimes sliding into one another like a ten year old on a sheet of wet plastic slides into the muddy, barren streak of lawn that was murdered by the likes of a Slip-N-Slide, and other times hopping together, like little wet toads along a wooded trail.

No matter, the words are coming and so far, they are coming without too much pain or nail biting, or other forms of misery. I am creating my first two (three, if you count the dog, and maybe you should) characters, making them up out of, well, nowhere. It’s pure invention, and I’m enjoying the novelty of it (if you’ll please pardon the pun.)

If I am to make it to my goal of writing 50,000 words by the end of the month, I’ll need to plunk down an average of 1666 words per day. So today, a quiet Saturday, I’m hoping that maybe I can ride the excitement of Beginning to Write and really go with it. Momentum, baby, momentum!

And now, a completely unrelated photograph of Annie (the black cat) with her friends on Halloween. (The tall witch next to her is NOT Carla. She’s another cute blonde girl that even I sometimes mistake for my own daughter.)