A thousand words tonight, in about an hour. My novel-in-progress, Earth Fleet*, is now at 10,000+ words of a projected 120,000ish.
Cabrell hadn’t been to the hub since the pressgang order had come into effect. He’d almost forgotten, this morning, had in fact been sitting down to a large breakfast when some little angel had whispered in his ear those magical words: weightless vomit. Instead of the omelette and sausage, he’d settled for some tea and a dry wafer of nutrients.
I have 11 chapters so far, of a probable 80–100. So things appear to be on course. (Yes, I like short chapters. That’s just the way it goes, sometimes.)
*Until and unless I come up with a better title.