seventeen – sex pistols

I don’t know why I’ve been beating myself up over my apathy since I started NaNoWriMo – habit, I guess. It’s day nine and I’ve just cracked seventeen-thousand words. Presumably by tomorrow night, I should be on sixteen thousand, six hundred and seventy, so I’m ahead of schedule.
It just feels like (as happened in march this year) I’m just don’t feel like I’m getting a good clear run at it.
I’ve just written the wedding scene. (Maybe I should be on the chick-lit section of NaNo – that or the porn thread!) It slid out easy like that time with the laxatives we stole from the CIA. Which is always a deeply cheering experience, the prose just flooding out with spelling and tense errors I’ll get back to when I revise the thing – but that’s the future, so fuck it.
So yeah, I’m cooking with gas. I have a couple of days off work as of tonight, so I should be able to crack forty percent before monday comes like a jail on wheels…


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