I seem to have done it again. I reached, and passed, 50,000 words today. I was in the middle of a scene. I noted that I had reached 50,009, then kept going.
So this makes me an official winner.
The book will be done…shortly, or whenever. A draft of the book, that is. Quite haphazard, but a draft.
I really don’t give a shit. Not anymore. Not about much of anything.
Yeah, it’s oh so great being positive and happy but I’m just not into it right now. Survival…whatever that entails. And survival means something quite different to me than it does to most folks.
It means being able to lie successfully.
It means having my excuses work.
It means getting away with being a no-show without too many people getting alarmed.
It means having the ability to shrug stuff off.
It means sometimes not being noticed.
It means slinking around.
I’m getting to be a great slink. Oh, the games. Just cats and mice. When do I get caught?
When will it come knocking? Is it like a shadow? Does it hurt? Is it loud? Shall I leave out bait?