How do you guys do it?
How do you guys write 20,000+ words and make them into amazing stories?
I don't get it. I don't think I've ever even gotten close to that many words.
Teach me your ways.
I was gonna write more. This was going to be an articulate post about how I'm writing my friend a story and only just reached 5 thousand words. It was like 11 pages long and i felt a bit proud until i saw the word count. It's crazy because i'm kind of in a lull. Uhhhhh.... I'm gonna post a bit of it to fill this up.
He’s wearing worn out jeans, big gaping holes at his knees, a plain white T, with hair buzzed short. The guy’s face is faced toward the back of the stage, pulling out a white guitar from thin air. The letters on the white body gleam against the stage lights Bob seems to be managing and Amanda’s breath catches in her throat. The letters spell out ‘PANSY’ and Amanda’s mind is running rampant, yelling “SOMEONE ROBBED FRANK’S GUITAR!”
It takes two seconds. One second for her eyes to look at the guitar stealer’s face and another for her eyes to widen at the sight. The ‘thief’ was Frank but not the Frank Amanda shares a lounge with because that Frank had dreads and wore baggy clothes. This Frank on stage had shaved off the dreads, is wearing tight jeans and shirts, and is wearing red eyeshadow. Amanda had to grab onto the ledge as her knees gave out.
I don't get it. I don't think I've ever even gotten close to that many words.
Teach me your ways.
I was gonna write more. This was going to be an articulate post about how I'm writing my friend a story and only just reached 5 thousand words. It was like 11 pages long and i felt a bit proud until i saw the word count. It's crazy because i'm kind of in a lull. Uhhhhh.... I'm gonna post a bit of it to fill this up.
He’s wearing worn out jeans, big gaping holes at his knees, a plain white T, with hair buzzed short. The guy’s face is faced toward the back of the stage, pulling out a white guitar from thin air. The letters on the white body gleam against the stage lights Bob seems to be managing and Amanda’s breath catches in her throat. The letters spell out ‘PANSY’ and Amanda’s mind is running rampant, yelling “SOMEONE ROBBED FRANK’S GUITAR!”
It takes two seconds. One second for her eyes to look at the guitar stealer’s face and another for her eyes to widen at the sight. The ‘thief’ was Frank but not the Frank Amanda shares a lounge with because that Frank had dreads and wore baggy clothes. This Frank on stage had shaved off the dreads, is wearing tight jeans and shirts, and is wearing red eyeshadow. Amanda had to grab onto the ledge as her knees gave out.