I did not write anything on the 19th. It’s a prime number, you see, and I do chores on prime number days.
I did write something last night (in addition to yesterday’s foray into mythology), but it got late, I was tired, and I waited until this morning to re-read it (after I helped clean the house . . . prime number day it’s not, but it looks like it should be, especially if one is bad at math).
I also added a hundred words or so, but I will count them to yesterday’s total since it was along the line of editing.
Anyway . . .
Chapter 24 will go live shortly after I post this in a password-protected post.
Here’s my progress so far:
I wrote 2,698 words this evening, which gives me a cumulative total of 42,648 words (per Scrivener).
Chapters 24 is . . . was difficult. I have to start explaining stuff, you know, bringing together a semblance of a plot.
I, however, much prefer writing action. Stuff be happening, I be happy. Stuff be explained, I be all fidgety-like. I hope my readers are better than me in that regard.
Here’s my usual ending to these posts.
For them interested in using my spreadsheet, a previous post explains it and provides links for getting either a copy of the Google Docs version, or downloading the Excel Spreadsheet version. That post is HERE.
Anyone wanting to read the novel, please shoot me an e-mail requesting the password, or leave a comment below to that effect.
As a point of information, asking for the password does not mean I will subscribe, or even read, your blog. It just means you get the password. Perhaps I might get curious and check you out, perhaps not.
One other thing.
Last year I did a precis . . . I know some people like the precis. I did it last year because I stopped writing for a few months, and then I was not writing regularly.
This puppy is going to be finished before the end of the month. I won’t have time to write a precis, and the timeframe is short enough to perhaps make its absence irrelevant. If not . . . sorry.
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
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. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.