So last night I found out that 200 fiction words for the day is the number that lets me go to sleep at night and not be humiliated by the fact that I have to report it the next morning. (And that 58 words was what kept me up and wouldn’t let me go to bed yet.)
The day’s total was 463.
I suppose humiliation as motivation shouldn’t be discounted as a valid method of getting a person to write, right?
I’m also quite pleased that my friend Erin quite enjoyed the novel I loaned her. Or at least she stayed up until 2 a.m. to finish it. In my book, it’s the same thing. I suppose you could hate read like that, but I don’t think a romance novel is the kind of thing most people hate read.
That’s just my 2¢.