So between two writing sessions today, somewhere between nine and ten hours total, that's 4,245 words today. Which is not a personal best, but it's the kind of writing day I only get a few times a year.
Now, I kind of feel like I was used to scrub pots and then wrung out and hung over the faucet, but a lot of work did get done.
Saturday is probably a wash, or mostly so, between needing to buy groceries and afternoon errands and social thing in the evening. Tomorrow, though, and Sunday both have potential. Next weekend is shot--I'll be in New Hampshire--so I guess I'd better have the draft done by then so I can goof off with friends on whale boats and possibly shooting ranges in good conscience. Also, there might be herptiles.
Anyway, you can stick that fork now. My brain is done.
The story has reached the point where my head is full of nothing but words and all I want to do is finish the draft. It's an obsession. I woke up this morning with great chunks of stuff in my brain, pressing to get out. Finish the draft. Finish the draft. All interruptions are currently annoyances. Get out of my way! I'm writing!
Man, it's been a long time since I felt this way.
I suppose eventually this will need transitions and things. That makes me sad.
I have new sheets and new pillows (my new comforter is back-ordered, but enroute) and I begin to understand Brian Wilson's point. Although I think I'm being more productive than he managed. I wrote for two and a half hours this morning, and have been at it now for about another hour and a half (there were errands and lunch downtown in between) and plan to pretty much go straight through the evening. I'm about to get up for a bit though and go check my mail and get an icepack for my neck and make a pot of tea. Mmm. tea.
Later on, expect popcorn.
I'm pleased that air conditioner season is coming to an end, and fall (coincidentally my favorite season) is upon us. Soon there will be crisp nights and sweaters, and I will be a happy bear. Until then, however, I endure.
Speaking of enduring, can somebody explain to me why Weather Watcher thinks we have a 50% chance of "frozen mix" for tonight's precipitation? WTF?
830 + 2385 = 3215 words on "Wind-Up Boogeyman" tonight. Which means I have only the Climactic Space Battle, the Scary Danger, and the Denouement to go and I can call it a draft of a story. I like how at the end of a story, when you know what happens, everything clicks together. That's sweet.
This means, god willing and the creek don't rise, I shall be done with it tomorrow. I also have to buy produce (eggplant, peaches, corn, tomatoes, maybe some peppers) and milk tomorrow, and I have plans for tomorrow night, but there should be a solid five or six hours of writing time in there, I think. Which might be enough to polish it off, and if it's not, then Sunday will be.
Oh, I do like finishing things.
And once I have finished this thing, I can cross it off my list until it's time to revise it, and go flop and do Other Tasks (like the page proofs for the W&W mass market) for a few days while I think Very Hard about Bone & Jewel Creatures, and how I'm going to make that work.