The last two days have been flat-out. I trained at work. (“Trained” sounds like “drained” for a reason. I think I burn more calories by teaching people how to use Quicken than I do by working out.) I came home and wrote. I ate much junk food. I stayed up way too late. I went out to celebrate that a friend at work got a promotion (good for him, sucks for us, don’t want him to leave) and ate many many mussels and shrimp, and then drove home. I pigged out on too much junk food, and drank my way through a river of soda.

Despite all of this, I won NaNoWriMo this year, squeaking in with less than a minute to go when I crossed the 50,000 word mark. I was so tired during that last thousand words or so that twice I caught myself typing with my eyes closed so that I could rest my very heavy eyelids. Another few minutes and I’d’ve been done for. Thank god for servers that submit quickly, for accepting my win, and for the big comfy bed upstairs.

The book, by the way, is nowhere near done, so no, you cannot read it yet. My winning was a major accomplishment and something that I treasure, but as far as the story is concerned I think I just crossed the halfway point in the story’s final length. Hard to say since so much of it is pure unadulterated crap, too. Ah, the joys of being a writer.

I look forward to also being a cartoonist again, but not right now. Now, this post is disjointed enough, so I sleep.