I spent nearly an hour on a chapter of "Hatchling" tonight, since I didn't manage to get to the library (I'm working on a TV show tomorrow, and they made me drive more than two hours to get a COVID test), but it sure didn't translate to my word count (re-writing the same line of dialogue three or four times so it sounds more natural doesn't really count, apparently).
Out in the middle of nowhere, some ambitious individuals built some
sound stages where there would be no sound pollution or passers-by, and
I had been there once before.* Even though it took me more than two
hours driving out there, my COVID test took up less than two minutes,
then they told me I could go. There's probably a life metaphor in there
somewhere, but I can't come up with one right now.
My test was negative (and they
still tested me the next day too, which seems like overkill . . . why
make me come in and test if they were going to do it again on the day of
the shoot?), but poor Biggie Anklevich told me yesterday that he's lost
his sense of taste. His first clue was when he started listening to
Justin Bieber's new album by accident and didn't turn it off.
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In January: 1211
Push-ups Today: 100
Push-ups In January: 1092
Words Today: 375
Words In January: 7337
*The horrifying thing is, I believe I'd already been doing this daily blogging thing when I worked on it, despite it feeling like years ago . . . wow.
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