It's Day 8 and we're now at 8,635 words.
I can't brag with those numbers, but they're not making me feel depressingly hopeless either. Progress comes, softly and steadily, and what am I kidding.
Today I've diagnosed myself with a horrible affliction - cafe writer syndrome - one of the most costly.
It hit me when I was buying 2 hours of wifi with a Grande Americano at the Burma Lane Starbucks, that I was in trouble.
I cannot write, long and well, unless I'm in an expensive cafe.
One of the drawbacks to selling property in Penang is that although the hours are great and the pay Eh, okay, I can't write in the company office. Okay, I can write there, but the shared cubicles are numbingly depressing and everyone else is over 30, super cina, and judgmental in a way only the rich can afford.
Huh. It's almost as if I'm writing this novel as a means of escape, but THAT CAN'T BE IT.
I also made the mistake of checking my reader stats today. I couldn't help myself. I'm so ashamed. I can already feel myself falling into the narcissistic-coffee-splurging-YA-writer stereotype, but there you have it.
50 hits in the span of 12 hours - that's more than I can say for my Penang property blog. But then I found out that most of my readers came from America and now I can't even. type another word. Please, ang moh people, I don't want to second guess every adverb or semi-colon I type. Please be kind.
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