MAN. Writing to Death From Above, 1979? It’s like one headlong rush into a maddening dive through the black aether and right into the world of MAD FURIOUS TYPING. I think I was hitting about 200 wpm there for awhile, fingers blurring, just hammering this stuff out as Selah sped along the abandoned city streets on a stolen Harley Davidson, accelerating and accelerating against all reason.
Man. Damn! Just blasted out 3000 words or so, roared right through Chapter 4 and halfway into Chapter 5. At about 10,000 words now, and I think it’s going OK, I think it’s going fine. I don’t know how it’ll turn out, don’t know what people will think, but if I can hold onto this rush that suffuses me right now for a few more nights, who cares? I’m loving this.
First night I wrote 750 words. Second I wrote about 1,250. Then yesterday I wrote about 4,800, and thus far today I’ve written some 3,000, and still have more to go. Feels like I’m picking up speed. Like ancient engines are coming to life deep within me, shedding scales of rust and putting out clouds of dust as they slowly gain momentum and begin to clank and roar and belch fire and soot. If this keeps up I’ll be back to my old rhythm of writing about 8,000 words a day, and be done with this damn thing by the end of next week.
HOOTENANNY, FOLKS, HOOTENANNY.