I’m ending today’s writing at 46,524 words. That’s 166 Word doc pages. Been dancing around my office to get the blood flowing. Been listening repeatedly to Miike Snow, The National, CCR and Black Keys. There’s a good chance I’m going crazy. I left the house for a few hours the other day and came back with a medical marijuana card and a gold nose ring. Despite the insanity, I’ve been loving novel writing. Especially because I fucking love my story. I find myself wanting to live in my story world, that it’s at easy access to my fingertips typing. Writing at this sort of pace everyday keeps the story close at hand. Because it’s already so familiar. The novel is pageants and Reno and Big Life Questions like identity, family, passion. The daily commitment of 2,000 some odd words of writing doesn’t feel cumbersome or tedious–it feels natural, compulsive. And like it’s what I was put on this earth to do.