There is always an excuse for not writing. Last week we traveled out of state on a vacation. Finding time to write was harder than normal, but it wasn’t harder than I expected. The writing was unsurprisingly useless, so I am throwing it away. For the first time in 1000 Days history I’m taking crap writing and I’m pitching it.
As a matter of full disclosure I should note that there are more days in the last gap where I didn’t even try to write than there are days where I wrote and I’m throwing it out. I wouldn’t want you to think things had changed much around here. Tomorrow I’ll work out the date for day 1000; today I need to get to writing.
Evening came quickly to the Tall Rock River, but it lasted for hours. Bale admired the shadowed jungle rising out of the water a hundred feet or more. The canyon’s rim might have even been another hundred higher than it looked from where he poled his flat-bottomed boat; the slope tricked the eye. The deep, black water remained placid for miles between his home and [his destination], but it shallowed in two places. The first—an hour into his journey—from a long-ago slide that created a broad clumsy waterfall. And the second, just ahead. He passed the portage so he could slide out of the day-long shadow and into the golden beams of sunset where a westerly branch of the canyon allowed one last peak of the sun. [trying too hard here]
Let’s just get this mess posted.
256 words on day 970