Over the weekend I completed a fat, feature-length gun review, a shorter quickie review, and put big dents in a couple of columns, such that I should be able to knock them both out this afternoon without much effort.
That's over three thousand words written on Saturday and Sunday and, unlike fiction, I can't pad that stuff out with dialogue. On the upside, I don't have to think of a plotline, either; just describe yet another black plastic striker-fired pistol in a way that the reader can understand the various details that distinguish it from a hundred other extremely similar pistols.
I'm not an author, just a writer. A 1500+ word day leaves my skull feeling like it's been emptied with a shop vac, even if the actual time spent writing was only a few hours. The stresses of 2020 have not made that any easier.
Apocryphally, Stephen King puts out words at a 2k/day clip, while Hemingway did 500 to 1000. Hats off to that.
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