It’s 6:41 PM on Tuesday, April 30, 2013. I’m done working for the day so I tallied the month end numbers.
I averaged 1448 new words a day for April 2013, putting up a grand total of 43,451 new words for the month.
Yippee!
So far for 2013 I’ve put up 102,555 words. I’m about 10,000 words short for year-to-date goals.
My dad died December 15th and I spent January and parts of February away from the keyboard. Hence the short word count for the year.
My dad got pneumonia and was hospitalized October 4th, (he never got back home). He’d been fading away for longer than that, and I don’t think he ever got a chance to read my stuff. He just wasn’t strong enough anymore to relax with a book. Or in my case, a Kindle.
I don’t think he was aware of the tech changes in publishing that gave me the power to do what I’d dreamt about for some thirty five years. Write.
Thirty five years. Yeow.
I bought my first Writer’s Market in 1975. The cover blurb declares it contained 5,202 paying markets for novels, articles, poetry, poems, plays, gags, short stories, photos, and more.
Wondering how I remember what was on the cover of a book I bought decades ago? I just pulled it out of my library to check. Yeah, I still own it. There’s a couple notations on the inside cover from a twenty one year old kid, but I won’t discuss that here. Still, in my world, that book is historic.
As for Mom, she does read my stuff. Then she calls and tells me to stop swearing so much. But it’s not me, it’s the characters.
They pretty much say and do what they want.
Oh yeah, Mom used to tell Dad to stop swearing, too. Guess it runs on the paternal side of the family.
Dammit.
- Chester
I averaged 1448 new words a day for April 2013, putting up a grand total of 43,451 new words for the month.
Yippee!
So far for 2013 I’ve put up 102,555 words. I’m about 10,000 words short for year-to-date goals.
My dad died December 15th and I spent January and parts of February away from the keyboard. Hence the short word count for the year.
My dad got pneumonia and was hospitalized October 4th, (he never got back home). He’d been fading away for longer than that, and I don’t think he ever got a chance to read my stuff. He just wasn’t strong enough anymore to relax with a book. Or in my case, a Kindle.
I don’t think he was aware of the tech changes in publishing that gave me the power to do what I’d dreamt about for some thirty five years. Write.
Thirty five years. Yeow.
I bought my first Writer’s Market in 1975. The cover blurb declares it contained 5,202 paying markets for novels, articles, poetry, poems, plays, gags, short stories, photos, and more.
Wondering how I remember what was on the cover of a book I bought decades ago? I just pulled it out of my library to check. Yeah, I still own it. There’s a couple notations on the inside cover from a twenty one year old kid, but I won’t discuss that here. Still, in my world, that book is historic.
As for Mom, she does read my stuff. Then she calls and tells me to stop swearing so much. But it’s not me, it’s the characters.
They pretty much say and do what they want.
Oh yeah, Mom used to tell Dad to stop swearing, too. Guess it runs on the paternal side of the family.
Dammit.
- Chester
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