Day 9 stats.

I've got 23 days and 30,782 words left to go. Today I wrote 1178 words and my daily quota is 1330 at this time. I'd like to have a real burst and get this to a more comfortable 1000, but lapses in concentration have seen self-discipline fly out the window. 

Maybe I should work on a reward system - let me see - what would tempt me that doesn't have a monetary or calorific value? Nothing!

I guess the reward will just have to be the number of words in the Nanowrimo calculator at the end of the day. I wonder if anyone cheats at this - like writing any old rubbish just to bump up the count.- and no, I haven't been tempted in this way. Not seriously tempted anyway, because I really want to get this novel finished. 

Oh well, tomorrow is another day. Will it be the day Kylie gets out of the cellar? And will she do this dead or alive? I can't wait to find out so I'll have to keep writing.

Sneak peek at Chapter twenty-seven

It wasn’t as easy to slip away as it had been in the past. Cary was spending more time at his place – and hadn’t he encouraged this, running to him in panic as he had. He’d begun to get on his nerves again with his old woman ways and worse, questioning him as to where he’d been and with whom. So far he’d avoided an argument, but a showdown was imminent if it continued. He’d started to talk about his retirement from the police force, of leaving his wife to live with Derek and he didn’t think he could cope with that. No, definitely not. The more confined he felt by the relationship the more he yearned for the freedom of variety. His dalliance with Paul Lay had been just that, a diversion of convenience that he dipped into when the mood struck. The initial spark of promise had failed to ignite. The thought of slipping into domesticity with Cary was the last thing he wanted and once he resigned from the police force, he’d have no use for him at all.