And by that, I mean I’m a machine!
Literally, I’m a freakin machine. This new year has given way to some serious ‘getting shit done’ tendencies. I’ve busted ass, I’ve taken names, and I’ve written my quota every single day, and then some, since January 1st.
Anyway, as of yesterday, I have officially written 36,000 words for the month. Most of that number equals the first 93 pages of my second novel. Am I doing this in order to commit to and complete some imaginary JaNoWriMo, you ask? No. I simply took some advice to heart and realized, if I am going to do this, and do it as a career, I need to actually take it seriously and expect something of myself.
And to all those who consider writing a lot in a short span to equal writing a lot of garbage, I honestly feel the work is worthwhile. And even if it isn’t yet gold, when I finish this book, edit the shit out of my first and finish my third, I will edit this one and it will be as golden as I can create a tome right now.
Yet, the point is this…seriously, 36,000 words in 18 days? And I haven’t yet written today!
Which is the point of this blog. I was actually considering a day off.
A day off you say? What utter rubbish! Work, woman! Work!
I intend to. Just let me put the child to bed first.
*Glows with a sense of accomplishment and pride* (If only I’d felt this way January 6th…when I finished my first book.)