570 words an hour?
This is a secondish draft of a story. The first draft I wrote last November. I hated it a lot, and I got caught up working on other things, so I stopped worrying about it. Sometimes, I opened the file and looked at it and then got bored and wandered off to do other things. That happened mostly this past winter. Anyhow, so I just reread it a few days ago, and I felt like there was something tiny in there that I wanted, and so today I sat down and opened a new file and started typing again. This draft is way different than the old draft. This draft is not done yet, but I think I'm done for the night. I don't know how it will end. I think I know a little about what I want to type next, but that's about it.
I have not felt this good about a story draft since I wrote the Hobart piece a year ago. I feel excited. I feel like I have accomplished something today. I should reward myself tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I will go get boxes to start packing things for our move.
I also need to shave.
Rewards, everywhere.
Also, I reread Barry Hannah's "Testimony of Pilot" this morning. I thought it might help me with another story I'm working on. But it won't. Oh well.
Also, I have renamed this blog 'giraffe search and rescue.'
Enjoy.
Also, how did Twitch not win So You Think You Can Dance?