500

      You wouldn't think 500 to be a large number. I mean, it doesn't seem large, particularly compared with, for instance, the national budget or the number of news stories about Brittany Spears. But it's larger than you think. Particularly when it's the number of words you trying to add to a story. Even more so if you were me attempting to write on my book last night.
      I type fairly fast. I average about 80 words a minute, after subtracting my mistakes. Mavis Beacon and Mrs. Fears should be proud. (The former is a renowned typing instructor who lent her name to a typing instruction program that I spent hours with -- the program, not her, but she is a hottie -- and the latter is my high school typing teacher.) If I could write as fast as I can type, I'd be finished in a little over six minutes. And sometimes it does work that way; the words pour out fast. I've had a couple 2,500 word sessions, but that's as rare as an honest Congressman. Most of the time, the words have to be pulled out by their roots. They battle me the whole time. Last night they just about did me in.
      I knew it would be tough. Before my computer crashed -- I've started dating events in my life as B.C.C. and A.C.C. -- I was rolling along with the book. I was writing 500 to 600 words a day on it. Not that impressive, but trust me, it builds up. For the past week, I've done little or no writing, other than angry forum ravings … uh … postings on the site of a particular software program. Still, I've written nearly 75,000 words on this book. I wrote them in health, in sickness, in poverty and in more poverty. So how hard could it be?
      I primed the pump. I read the two previous chapters to set the story in my mind again. Then I read what I written on this chapter. Oh yeah, Chapter Nine, the evil chapter. The chapter that hates me. And the feeling is returned. So I decided to scrap it completely and start it over, reasoning that a fresh approach would help. Except, after an hour of wrestling with it, I thought, Hey, maybe the old chapter isn't that bad. I mean, it's not perfect, but I could learn to live with it. So I went back to it. Another 30 minutes, and I gave up and went back to the new writing. Even harder this time around. So then I thought maybe I could combine the two and create something new and beautiful. This is the flawed thinking that drove Dr. Frankenstein. The result was about the same, although no villagers tried to burn my home.
      I finally got the words. But it took three and a half hours! I hope it goes better tonight. Otherwise, expect this book sometime around 2011.
      By the way, this posting is exactly 500 words long.