When I'm really going, like on my second book, I go for about 5000 words, twenty pages, per day. It can be done. I wrote that book, Taming the Tiger, in about four months. But I'm more thoughtful and careful now, so I'm slower.
Ok, I'm not. I'm just tired and hungover from drinking all weekend.
I got nine pages today. Nine. Over 2000 words. Incidently--and people say there's no such thing as coincidences--nine is how many beers I had Saturday night at my party, in addition to a couple of whiskeys.
Yeah, you can't keep up, so don't even try.
Nine. Good start for the week. That's what happens when you finally figure out what the fuck's gonna happen at the end of your book. There's still hope I'll finish this bastard for Christmas.
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