As I’d sort of expected, it didn’t last nearly as long as I’d thought it would. In the end, I managed 4,924 words in four hours, which is nothing to sneeze at. I’ll probably be posting an excerpt from the first draft of “Street Food” soon.
In the end, it wasn’t my willpower or my stamina that failed me. What happened was, in the metaphorical twelfth mile, I started to get shin splints, and then the marathon was canceled on account of rain, and I realized that it was probably for the best. I feel only mildly disappointed: four hours of constant writing was more of a strain on my flimsy sanity than I really need.
Okay…I guess I’ll go of and do something “productive.” Damn it!