Monday, November 29, 2010


Well, that was singularly unpleasant in its last stages.  After writing a heinous amount of prose on Sunday, and then rushing through the almost-mandatory 1,667 words today, I figured I might as well press on and write as much as I could, and once I was within a thousand words of the end, it seemed rude not to press on.

If nothing else, it's made me a more proficient typist.

It's hard to say if this is much of an achievement; after all, I haven't actually written the ending yet: all I've done so far is most of the plot, with the end game beginning to come to fruition, but with a nagging feeling at the back of my head that I've failed the Bechdel Test good and proper (not sure if I have any convincing conversations between anyone, come to think of it, let alone two ladies) and I have an awful lot of loose ends to tie up and interlinking passages to write, to make sense of what I've chucked out there.

Perhaps I've only succeeded in 50,000 words of utter garbage. Get over to and tell me. Although start at the start of November and work forward, or the plot will seem really abysmal...

I didn't do anything else of note today, so I have nothing to write about*.  I'm just going to be smug and bask in the fact of my achievement for a few hours, until I realise I still have to think of something else to write tomorrow.

But for now, I'll just exhale.

* Yesterday I watched Stewart Lee's If You Prefer A Milder Comedian, and now I'm brainwashed into repeating the phrase "Give it to me straight like a pear cider" ad infinitum.  So it goes...


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