Word Count: November 19–November 25, 2023:
Black Thanksgiving: Revenge Of The Gobble Goblin
Does that mean the turkey was burned? Or the turkey burned shit down?
I didn’t do any novel work this week. Shame! Shame! Shame! There was that holiday. I spent a lot of time working on the audio project I mentioned in last week’s word count post. I tried many different methods, man. I was done and started from scratch a few times before deciding the quality was as good as I was capable of getting it with the technology to which I have access. I’m still not done, but that’s the hardest part. I still have to figure out how to make a CD for my mom because in the rare cases she accepts technology, it has to be archaic. My computer doesn’t have a CD drive. I have to hope my old laptop still works after all these years. That means I also have to make fancy cover art. I’m planning to do some other things with the salvaged audio, which may or may not work out. That’s what I’m doing this weekend. I still have a month. At least, I know she won’t read this.
I spent the rest of my time on my WordPress and Medium blogs. I wrote a beautiful flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers, Ohio Smith & The Golden Pussy, the fifth adventure for the good doctor. I copied the other four to Medium as well, so no one who wants to read them feels pressured to leave their safe space.
I also readied and posted the fourth and final post in my Dogs EVERYWHERE!!!: Why I Have SEVEN Dogs! series. Though there will be a test, so I recommend everyone read, reread, and memorize them before that is posted.
I spent Thanksgiving avoiding the wrath of The Gobble Goblin by not celebrating. Instead, I installed a new doorbell camera and backyard camera, so I can finally see who’s peeing on my plants. I bet it’s the boys. Oh shit! I had turkey lasagna for dinner. AHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!
I did a lot of work, stayed busy, and avoided being savagely murdered by a Gobble Goblin, but I failed to write any novel words. 0 novel words for the week.
What was your count? Yours doesn’t have to be a novel. How many words did you write for a screenplay, blog posts, poetry, or drunken rant inspired by a family argument at Thanksgiving about what color Superman’s nipple rings are? They’re purple. No, having AI write something for you does not count. Please, feel free to follow along and join in or rain down praise upon me for using my words instead of cowering under my desk with my survival bag, hiding from The Gobble Goblin. Holidays are scary. Like life, writing is a journey. It’s nice to know what successes are possible and that we’re not alone in our struggles.
