Hard today. Headache. Part of whatever weirdo viral fluey stomach fluey thingy I have. I always get weird things. I never get normal colds. I always have strange symptoms that make the doctor sort of stare oddly at me. I must be from outer space. I must have a Martian virus. Or Venusian. I am not an earthling. I am feeling awful. And I have to write. And someone is running a leaf blower or lawn mower or some such noisy machine and it is making my headache worse. How am I supposed to write? What would John Steinbeck do?
John Steinbeck would write.
I have put parts of myself in two of the characters. Jam is myself younger and Cast is myself today.
Later: wrote 925 words. Have to take a break. Have to figure out what needs to be written next.
Adding to some of the scenes.
1375 I am exhausted.
Need a better timeline.
1715. Done.
For tomorrow: Have to get a sense of what I have written and what more needs to happen before the ending. Once I know what the scene is about I can write it, but I need more scene ideas now. Think I’ll make a little chart for each character, showing how each one gets to the end. Have to keep up the suspense and add more red herrings that point to the wrong suspects.
Total Word Count: 23,419
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