Over the past few days (since my FIL left), I’ve been uber productive.  Like to the tune of 11,000 words by the end of today if I hit my goal.   At least.  And that’s over a four-day period.  So yay for me *g*.  But one thing I’d forgotten was how physically tired that much production makes me.

 

Sure, I expect it in my day job, where I juggle figures and look at risk analysis all day, but somehow I made the mistake too many folks who don’t write do…that it’s no big deal, that sitting on your ass for four or five hours at a stretch and writing fiction is a snap. 

Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s not easy by any means…that much I’ve figured out, especially over the past few years.   But sitting down and writing, even if you’ve already got the story in your head is tiring as hell.

I guess part of it is I’m used to coming home and clearing my mind by cooking dinner and answering e-mail before I sit down to pound out my word count for the day, which is traditionally less than ¼ of what I’ve been outputting the last few days.

And you know what?  If I could make a living at this, I’d stay happily exhausted seven days a week!

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