Padding for Gold

I had been feeling slightly less cheery. About the Job-versus-Me word count exercise. Over these past couple weeks I'd noticed two issues.

Firstly. Every day, when I knew I'd written more for me than for the job, and knew I'd beaten the workday count, I slacked off in the evenings, usually didn't scribble much more. I'd mosey over my notes for Joe. Or that NaNo outline. Like I was whiling away my afterhours at the mall, window shopping.

I don't need phud after my name (um...Ph.D) to know where my head was at. Atop my shoulders where it customarily bobbles, Head, and I, of one mind, oh'yes, had decided we had done enough. There were numbers to prove it.

No matter. That's no huge problemo. Slacking will go when a deadline nears.

The second issue. I didn't like the feeling a lot of the scribbling wasn't much different from padding.

I was scribbling about anything and everything. The thoughts of the moment. Even the I'm tapping out words to be tapping down words starter, with variations, and goin' on from there. For however long the words kept coming.

And the words kept coming. A lot of the scribblings resemble journal entries. Fine. I'm glad the moments have been recorded. I might learn something from them someday. I also jotted down bits and stretches of stuff that will make fiction. Thrilling wee scenes that materialized in the space after breakfast (possibly digestion-related).

So, bring on the padding, I say. There's gold in them thar...words.