Final segment of the weekend marathon

Okay, that went pretty well, all things considered. Since Friday, I've doubled my wordcount, putting my nearly back on track. I've written more than 9,000 words of novel this weekend, although dragging the last 2,000 out this evening has been quite a struggle. Whew. So. Think I'll be trying to reach my word count every single day, like a good boy, from now on.

Favourite line of the evening:

Nez appeared at the doorway. “Shit. And I thought the other rooms were bad. What is this, National Turn-Over-A-House Day? Hallmark have got a lot to fucking answer for.”

Keeping pace

Bloody hell. It was like pulling teeth tonight. I got the bare minimum done, just over 1,666 words, and it took about three and a half hours.

Tomorrow, I think I might walk to work and back, whilst trying to think of some more plot. It's far, far easier for me to get a scene written than it is to think of what that scene's going to be in the first place.

Anyway.

Favourite bit of the day:

“Scottish? That’s a long way from Russian.”
“Not if you’re Sean Connery,” observed Nez.
I gave him a look. “Anyway. Domingo, this Scottish guy, what’s his name?”
“Tinkerbell.”
I gave him a look, too. I had enough to go around.