Late on a Tuesday Night

Surprisingly, I found myself at home Tuesday night with no meetings to attend, no attachments, and no appetite for snacks. And with everyone else busying themselves with homework or grading homework, I decided to settle in for a night of fast-paced writing.

I never set out to keep track of anything I do, but I couldn't help but notice that after two hours of furious typing, where the ideas were coming faster than my fingers could respond, I'd produced fifteen pages of decent material. Something like three thousand words, which I'll take any time at that rate.

Later than later that night, when Becky and I met in the middle of the house, she asked me what I'd been doing. "I wrote one-tenth of a new book," I said. "If I get nine more nights like this one, I'll have the entire thing done. And by the hour, I could write the whole thing in a day."

"That's nice," she said, yawning.

And it was. A great night indeed.