One hour and about fourteen minutes and I got 1747 words done in that silly story that Bobby gave me the idea for.
It couldn’t have been just easy, could it? Problem with me is, give me something simple, and I’ll turn it into work in no time. Thing is, it takes making it work for me to make it fun. When I am trying to start the gears really rolling with a piece of work, I try and graph my output day to day to see how many words I get done in how many minutes, how many times a week, to estimate when it is this work will be done so I can post a deadline in my calendar. Or at least write it down in my notebook.
And this particular work is getting hard for me to finish. I figure about fifteen hundred words at a stretch every three days. I have about another two thousand more to do on this one before I shelve it and wait for it to age long enough for me to go back and edit it for length. Keep it around three thousand words or so. Maybe less. I imagine this kind of subject matter doesn’t lend itself to large works. But then again, read Lolita by Nabokov. A disturbing work of great literary merit that really should be ready by everyone. Nabokov managed to write a whole novel about what kind of man it takes to seduce his daugher, albiet his adoptive one and one that is in his care. I think I don’t deserve much more than three thousand words for an agoraphobic freelance web designer and internet services contractor with Asperger’s syndrome who is looking for a one time, unique encounter, with a transvestite in a downtown Toronto bar.
Yeah. Three thousand words should about do it.
And because I am a shameless attention whore, here is the work in progress
And here we go from here.
Thanks for reading.