I’m not sure why this is still surprising to me, but books have so many words in them. No matter how many words I write, they want more. For example, I can write 8,000 words and in that time, my character can travel from one town to another and accomplish nothing because there weren’t enough words. Or I can have a running total of 27,000 and still be in chapter three. Because words. I don’t have enough. Yet.
That’s the beauty of writing. I am the mistress of the words and if I need more, I have them. They may bring unwanted friends that I’ll need to evict later, and they may get a bit jumbled between my mind and my fingers, but they are there and they are free and I can have as many as I want.
I love words.