A little from column A... a little from column B.
Tue 2004-11-16 20:12:15 (in context)
- 23,247 words (if poetry, lines) long
- 0.00 hrs. revised
It's so true. Give someone all day to do something, and nothing will get done. I overslept and then goofed off all morning. This is not the way to get a novel written.
That said, once I did get around to writing, I managed to do one full cycle of three half-hour sessions. It's not exactly a jet-pack flight - more of a hop, really - but it did get me further down the block than I would have gone otherwise. Half an hour translates into roughly 1,000 words; three of those is 150% of my daily requirement. So that's all good.
I'm at the Tea Spot again. It's pretty busy on a Tuesday night. Hordes of people come and go, some with take-out or leftovers from other area restaurants. Outside, the skating rink is still undergoing construction. Thousands of little white tubes are being laid out in a flat net where the ice will be. They create a sort of loopy fringe around the edges where they connect to the main pipe. I assume they're what will keep the ice cold enough to stay ice. I seem to remember the third weekend in November as the date the rink is supposed to open, but don't quote me on that.
Eh. Not much point to reporting all this, except that it seems I ought to put more in this blog than, "Wrote three thousand words tonight. I rock. I keep losing money at Skilljam.com, though." I couldn't really tell you why I'm keeping a blog at all, except maybe because it's spiffy to have my own version of the Dreaded Word-count Bar, and because I like the idea of keeping a record of my own progress through this novel - how many words a day, when my dry spells were, when I scrambled to catch up, how insane was I on the last three days of November. And maybe if friends of mine are actually reading this, I won't be tempted to babble their ears off with a verbal brain dump about every little thing I thought and did on a given day, because they'll have already read it and won't need to hear it again. And maybe then I'll actually shut up and listen to what they have to say.
Hey, it must be Autopsychoanalysis Hour again. Who knew? Anyway, forget I said any of that. In summary: 3,000 words today and 1 pot of tea drunk. Go me.