I’m sitting at a little over 2,600 words, a huge, magnificent output for me in one day. But I must admit, I’m sitting here, chicken finally in the oven, feeling just a skoosh burnt out. A good burnt out, but likely not going to be able to finish as I’d hoped. Boo.
It was great, though. I’d start, get 250 words, then 400, then another batch, and near the end it had a momentum all of it’s own. I looked up and found I had added 1,000 words. What the hell? Awesome! I have perhaps four scenes left? I should journal my progress, old school, by hand in my little red Moleskine book. And then put my feet up.
Not finished, but super pleased with myself anyways.
I still have a story to read for critique, and will need to make more notes tomorrow on both it and the other piece before the meeting. I may come back to the WIP tonight. Maybe. I’m very hungry now, that sort of sick-hungry that you might just bounce back from when you get some good food in your belly. So, we’ll see.
Still celebrating with roast chicken with garlic, rosemary and lemon and two episodes of Doctor Who. And some sake.