I began writing at midnight as I knew that Friday was going to be an insanely busy day. I managed to type out 500 words that I'm mostly happy with. I know they're going to need a good polishing once the event is over but that's ok. Beginnings are never my favorite bits to write. Neither are endings. I love being in the middle of the story. That's my favorite part.
After I got to school I was able to type out another 500 words before 3rd period and I finished off the word count with a burst of energy during lunch.
The rest of the day was filled with long drives, a wonderful performance, and an excellent cast party.
Daily Word Count: 1711
That should placate Frank. Nobody ever volunteered to do the inventory. It required working the ancient forklift, or the fucklift as it was affectionately called behind management’s back. The fucklift had a bad habit of breaking down just as a large plasma screen tv was inches from the edge of the top stock shelf. Steve had the worst luck with the damn thing. It wasn’t unusual that he’d find his paycheck a few thousand dollars short because of broken merchandise. Some weeks, it was as though he was paying ElectronicsWorld to work there.
Headed to the Simpson Library in Mechanicsburg. Started up an hour session of WriteorDie.. I was interrupted briefly by my computer who decided to frighten me by popping up an updates window. For a moment, I thought it was going to begin auto-closing all of my windows. I frantically copy/pasted the work I was writing in WorD (since that doesn't auto-save) which then had WorD flashing red and play the consequence sound (silently since my speakers were turned off, yet I still know its there).
I was able to save my work and the computer did not do a quick restart, thankfully. I finished my writing with 1800 words in an hour. Not too shabby but I know I can do more.
Tonight I have my second to last performance. I may not get anymore writing done but what I have written I love immensely. I really can't wait to share this story with the world (or at least, my family and friends).
Daily Word Count: 3580
His bright future suddenly became sepia toned and withered away into a dry husk as reality set in. He should really head home. Or at least, to Stacey's house. She didn't start work until noon which meant she should be up drinking her coffee. What better way to nurse his shattered ego then to have it fluffed up again by his adoring girlfriend? And, if he was really lucky, perhaps he could convince her that what would /really/ cheer him up was a little "I'm sorry you lost your job but I still think you're wonderful" sex.
Maybe he wouldn't be /that/ lucky but at least he could try. Besides, girls liked to boost their man's ego, didn't they? Isn't that what all the magazines plastered on their headlines? Steve didn't want to think about it too much. It was enough to imagine walking into her apartment to find her dressed only in her silk panties, with a beer in one hand and a sexy pout that said "Poor baby. Momma will make it better."
Yes. Steve was going to visit Stacey.