Oh, if every day could be like this. Wake up, take a walk, write till you drop. I have made up a lot of lost momentum and also word count, although the weirdness persists with Scrivener giving me a different word count within the program than it does when I compile—this even though I have checked the box that says not to count any documents except those that will be compiled. But even by the more modest estimate, I wrote 2400 words today, this with some very un-Nano editing thrown in, where I actually edited out words that I wrote yesterday. (Yes, I know. Please, unclutch thy pearls.) My partner has just collapsed in exhaustion upon the table across from me, so I think…yes, this may be a sign. I’d better post this and run. I aim to draw my gladiator sword again tomorrow. Look out, Baxter, my Detroit nemesis! I’m hot on your heels, buddy.
Uncanny Vale
Home to the Literary Creations
of Erin Wilcox
I tried not to think about the girl sleeping greedily in a bed I’d built myself.