So anyway, in my ongoing plan to get to Viable Paradise, I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I had gone into the giant filing cabinet. Eventually giving up on finding the short story I was looking for (it will turn up in three years, like that stock did, when I've forgotten all about it or written it off), I picked something I had fond memories of, and I started typing it, and wow.
Wow, it was a pile of crap.
So I picked something else. I've now typed up about 7000 words of a lacking-a-title novel. Not nearly so bad. That's two chapters, though. My theory that I write 40% more than I should is being pretty much proven out again.
That stinking pile of crap, though? At least it had a title. I printed out the 3000 words I managed to type. I think I'll keep it around for scene-writing exercises. Three thousand words of no scenes. My god, how did I do that?