When I'm on the job, my usual output is between 1500 and 2000 words a night. I can do that seven nights a week (though I try to have two nights off a week to stay sane). When I'm not at work, I can get 3000 words a day.
I've been known to do stupid things, like spending a couple of weeks without free time to write 23,000 words in two weeks.
And I do it all with a day job. I'm out of here at half past seven, back at half five at the earliest. Come seven or whenever, I fire up the word processor, and work until I'm done. This isn't normal, but it's the only way I can make enough that I can pay the rent and bills.
I'm very strange in this regard, I know.
I'm jonesing to write something like I used to. Something powered by anger, a short sharp shout to the world. I'm really after writing the sort of thing I used to because that'd mean putting it online right away. Æternal Legends has sold some, but I've not seen anyone actually talking about it in a meaningful way I can interact with, beyond one thread on RPG.net. Tribes doesn't come out until the new year at the earliest, from what I see on the release schedule. There's Only Music won't see the light of day for almost a year.
I want to write something and see what people think about it. I want to see some fucking feedback, already. Nobody bothers reviewing Werewolf books for RPG.net.
I want to cut the fuck loose. But I have redlines breathing down my neck, jerking me back. Hopefully, this feeling will pass
I had more than that. I had a whole bunch of crap, but my ankle's playing up and I can't concentrate and I had to hoover. But J. brought me coke and a biscuit, which makes things a lot better.
: Which spacktard decided that brogues were somehow smarter footwear than boots? Fucking brogues over a gravel court, Recipie for fucking my feet in short order, more like. Give me docs any day. Boots that are made from leather and comfy soles and cock-off lumps of steel.