I got cocky today. The first two thousand words I wrote flowed pretty easily, so I decided I'd try to double it. I also want to be able to take a few days off, so I thought I'd get a head start. That second two thousand weren't so nice to me. They weren't as bad as yesterday, and I went into them feeling pretty good after Wii Fit told me I had an excellent golf swing and should try real golf—blatant lies always boost my ego—but they were still grating and by word 200, I was ready to throw it in and settle down for a nice evening of video games. But not anymore Wii Fit. Don't want to overexercise or anything.
I'll admit, today had the most rambling, run-on thoughts of any other day's writing. It was necessary at that back thousand (can I refer to words the way golfers talk about holes?). I'm just happy I did it. I'm exhausted, but in the good way. Not exhausted in the "I haven't gotten off the couch today except to go to the bathroom and get more Cheetos" like I had a lot of the days before I started NaNoWriMo.
And if I can end a day with some sort of accomplishment, even if it's just a couple thousand words on zombies taking over a once peaceful school, that'll be enough for me.
Now, Most Ridiculous Line Thus Far. Today's first two thousand words actually yielded a few competitors, so here's one - “Knox, open your window,” Neil practically shouted before a half dozen pillows were rocketed at his head with force that spoke less of playfulness and more of genuine animosity. He took a mental note of just who hurled those goose-down feathery weapons and consciously decided not to save them if this siren signaled the end of times. Luckily none of those pillow-chuckers were main characters. Or even characters with names, for that matter. Neil would come off as pretty selfish if he didn’t save someone of actual importance. If the sirens meant he would eventually need to save someone. If.