Quarantine Project Day 39
The penultimate day of the Quarantine Project. A strange day. Four rapid bursts, each weighing in at a half-ton. I'd love to know what happened in the interstices between these quantum burn ups. The horrible thing about my own creative method is that I don't know where I go in between.
I mean I must be "somewhere".
Let's be scientific. Let's say it's a seven hour day, minimum. There's probably an initial hour messing around, raising and lowering the writing chair so that it is poised at optimum writing position, sharpening virtual pencils and all that. Then there's an hour or so for lunch. Plus two three or four tea breaks (no longer than it takes to boil the kettle since I bring the tea or coffee back to the dark cave); a couple of comfort breaks; an intense peering-wistfully-out-of-the-window-break.
Now I don't know about you, but I can't make all of that that add up to more than three hours. That leaves four hours in the working day. The above-mentioned four half-ton productivity bursts came in a high-octane rush, probably lasting no more than 15-20 minutes apiece. That, if my maths is correct, leaves between two to three hours utterly unaccounted for.
Really, no idea.
Roaming the astral plane.
In the darklight of the above mystery it gives me little comfort then to report 2234 words.
(For yesterday's blog in the Quarantine Project click on "archives")
