If you're just joining this abomination-in-progress, I recommend starting back at Day 1, where you will find the rationale (such as it is) for this madness.
First Tuesday in quite a while where I haven't been cloistered with other writers doing writerly things. Feels vaguely dirty. Decided to atone by indulging in an unnatural act involving two bottles of club soda, one plate of shellfish, and a willow tree. Managed to escape in time to avoid impertinent questions raised by a neighbor.
Started recording session by creating graph for tracking progress, am dismayed to discover that I'm only 15000 words in so far. Decide to deliberately break day up into 1.5hrs on/1.5hrs off sessions to keep voice fresh and rested, aiming for a 25000 word day. Began recording 11am, finished final shift at 10pm. Total words recorded: 25468. Rock!
Decided to celebrate with excursion to hot tub. Nearly fell asleep. Startled awake by strange gathering of neighborhood felines exhibiting pack hunting behavior. Fifteen of them surrounded the tub and started mewling in a distinctly predatory manner. Effected heroic escape by leaping out over one, rolling on the concrete, running naked into the house, and returning armored with soggy shorts and t-shirt (as had forgotten to dry self) and did mighty battle with towel that I had, foolishly, left out of reach of the tub. Sustained only minor injuries, to hands and feet. Suspect I may have damaged voice by mewling profanity in cat-eese. Ended night by retiring to living room with large scotch and BBC mystery shows.
Stop By tomorrow, for The Tale of the Croaking Director