I’ve only written a couple of thousand words over the past (ahem) several days. I’m not sure exactly how many days, but since my goal was 1,000/day, I am in serious word count debt. Perhaps there is a government program to help me. A word bank would be great; perhaps a nice word tax credit.
The problem is, as best I can tell, Contagious Concentration Consumption, or CCC. This is not to be confused with the CDC or writer’s block, although the trio are more closely related than anyone would like to admit. It is also not in the same category as conjunctivitis; however, I would gladly settle for a good old case of pinkeye-excuse right about now.
Remember, whatever you do, don’t tell Lisa. If she gets wind that I have been word-slacking (again) she will penalize me. And then: no shoe shopping research, no editing excursion, no nothing. I will be back to sitting in bed, playing computer games and drooling in my oatmeal, waiting for a blizzard to drive me insane, like Jack Nicolas in “The Shining.” That’s if we’re lucky.
Plus, there’s the contagious part – if Lisa, who barely survived that last bout of writer’s block, catches it, we’ll Never Finish. You will have to suffer this blog forever with no hope of salvation.
So remember, mum’s the word. Although “odoriferous” is kind of funny too, I used that one today in a private message on facebook. You know who you are.
Peace out.
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