Just taking a quick break between scenes on the current story wot I am writing, I distracted myself with a few numbers.
I suppose writing makes you a bit weird like that, suddenly finding numbers to be diverting. ‘Ooh, look at that 3, I must get to know it.’ Too long locked inside this head is enough to make anyone a bit odd, which is, presumably, why I keep getting out of my head. Anyway.
The official draft of the current story stands as of now at 5,099 words. I just totted up the associated files and found that in order to get to 5,099 words, I have generated 9,872 words of notes, synopsis, rumination, dry runs and speculative drafts. Effectively, this means I have had to generate 15,000 words to get 5,000. I am guessing that the finished story will be 100,000 to 120,000, so does this mean I will have to write 300,000 to 360,000 to get there? Sigh.
I generated whole boxes of hand-written drafts to arrive at the 80,000 words of Weed. Writing so much longhand now seems quaint or a bit potty.
I still haven’t managed the Moorcockian 15,000 words in a day. I just don’t have the amphetamines for it. The best I have done is 2,000. Iain Banks reckons on 3,000 in a day, but he doesn’t have a crappy day job like wot I do.
Better get a move on then, innit.
Another Perfect Day in Fucking Paradise
Read a sample of Sanctioned
The Underpants Tree
King of the Undies World
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Weedy words of praise from a publisher in London
“… it’s really witty and very strong … I would compare the writing to Robert Rankin, or a really satirically biting Tom Sharpe, and will say again that I’m really impressed by it”
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