So today, although it isn't even close to over, I wrote a 1,246 word story.
And...I'm still not done with it.
Oh, silly me.
That was from... sometime last year, in a draft post, where I was talking about said story. Gushing, really.
I think I can top that with the 10,101 word short story (rather, it would be a chapter of something) I wrote last month. In a day. Took me six hours, apparently.
And today, yesterday, I wrote 3,555 words of a story.
I am no longer impressed with myself when I write one thousand words unless its a bad day or that's just how long it has to be. Sometimes things just need to end early.
Apparently, writing is the only profession where you can get away with asking about torture techniques and how much force it takes to break someones neck and, not to mention, how air embolisms work on a public forum.
Anyone could be a serial killer.
Seriously.
But the upside is that I now know how to torture people in some of the most gruesome, violent ways possible, how much force it takes to break someones neck, and that injecting someone with an empty syringe could potentially be fatal.
Is that good to know? I honestly have no idea.
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