Not a real marathon. Oh god no. For the time being, I’m content that I’ve actually lost enough weight to see my ankles without bending down (much). No, in typical Life of an English Major fashion, I’m talking about a writing marathon. Since I’ve yet to come up with a suitable topic for the Infinite Novel, I had a slightly saner and much stupider idea: why not spend an entire day writing? Because there’s no way banging on a keyboard and staring at a screen for twelve hours could hurt anybody, right?
Here’s the plan: this Sunday, I’ll get up, eat breakfast, and then write all day. From nine in the morning to nine at night. Twelve hours of constant writing, stopping only long enough to pee, guzzle coffee, gorge on premature Halloween candy, and clutch my ruined fingers and weep.
If all goes well, check my Twitter profile on September 27th. In between finger-ruining and frustrated head-banging, I’ll be posting updates.
(I love how I wrote this whole post with a straight face, as though I have, like, actual readers)