My right brain and left brain aren't getting along.
RB: Woo-hoo, I'm moving into act II
LB: Whoa, whoa, how many total words do you have?
RB: words, schmords - don't stifle the muse, man
LB: the muse needs to have 90,000 words by Christmas or Santa is going to skip over your room
RB: no Santa?
LB: no Santa
RB: FINE. Stifle my creativity and do your stinkin' word count
LB: let's see - a bunch of files, no order to them, holes in various plot lines. If I print out this mess and add up the totals, you have 21, 030. Not bad, but we need to analyze Act I a bit further before we move on
RB: You said no editing until 2006
LB: I didn't say edit, you chocoholic flake. I said analyze and fill in holes until we reach 30,000, ok?
RB: I hate you
LB: back atcha
So, yeah - I've lost my grip on reality and am now an unmedicated schizophrenic. AND I have piles of printouts all over my floor. I hope little elves come in and organize this into the snappy new binder I bought at Staples.