I've only written about 1,000 words today. I think I will force myself to write at least another 500 before bed.
But posting my wordcounts is getting boring even to me. Unfortunately, I absolutely cannot think of anything else to blog about. The weather isn't doing anything exciting, Vincent has not caught anything interesting lately (he did re-catch the skink a few days ago and I managed to get it outside, where presumably it immediately sought out a skink therapist to treat for PTSD), and my job is dullsville, man. I could tell you how interesting I found the book The Deer of North America by Leonard Lee Rue III that I read yesterday morning, and how I was excited to discover that it was an inscribed copy (I picked it up at a used book store), but I suspect no one but me wants to talk at length about the deer of North America. Even though really, it's an excellent book! It's full of esoteric information that I've never come across anywhere else despite searching for it actively while I was writing Stag in Velvet; for instance, I now know the typical gaits of deer, including average speed and length of stride while running, something I actually do need to know as a minor plot point. Also the book has lots of information I never would have dreamed even existed, like the fact that during the rut, stags masturbate. Yeah. There's even a picture.
Anyway, so I'm the most boring person in the world and I am reduced to blogging about masturbating deer. And I am very tempted to just erase the last couple of sentences, because I really really do not want to see the search terms that lead people to this post.
I'll try and do something interesting tomorrow.