I’m at the library again today (first time this week), and our friendly neighborhood homeless man is in his usual seat, either sleeping and snoring . . . or breathing as Darth Vader would after taking a lightsaber to the junk. It’s really quite disturbing, and reminds me of the Stephen King story “Gramma,” where a little boy is left alone with his dying grandmother, and her raspy breaths terrify him and light his imagination on fire. Apparently, one of King’s earliest memories was the sound his own grandmother made as she lay dying in her bed, and he mined it for that story (which, coincidentally, shares its ending with at least three of my own stories. Coincidentally, did I say?).
Five thousand. We could almost buy our own ship for that.
It would be impressive if I could manage five hundred today, but instead, I’m blogging away, like I actually make money from it.*I'll have to compare the "Misery" file from yesterday to the one from today to decide how many words I wrote.
Sigh. I don't really want to do that. Do I have to?
Words Today: 1317
Words Total: 34,194
Actually, that's quite good. I think I'll do this again at least once a week. Until I stop.
*I told Big yesterday about Abbie’s accomplishment, and I told him that I couldn’t produce 5000 words in a single day if I was paid ten dollars a word. He, being a bit more pragmatic than me, thought that he could, and I wonder if he’s right. It seems to me that, if you were capable of writing that much in a day, surely you would have done so by now, say, on a day back in 2013 when you were feeling super inspired. If you haven’t ever done so before . . . I just don’t think you’re capable. It would be like George R.R. Martin finishing a novel in less than a decade. And they DO pay him ten dollars a word.
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