No one would have believed, in the early years of the 21st century, that fictional affairs were being concocted in the timeless worlds of cyberspace. No-one could have dreamed that pages were being scrutinised, as someone with a typewriter studies characters that swarm and multiply in a drop of ink. Few men even considered the possibility of writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. And yet: across the gulf of cyberspace, minds immeasurably superior to yours regarded this task with manic enthusiasm. And quickly, and wantonly, they drew their plans and got down to it.

Oh damn. What I would give right now to be able to make my blog articles play music.

Yes yes, at some point, probably next month, I’ll get around to writing about what it was like being in an opera. But for now my literary attention is focussed squarely on Nanowrimo (which is obviously why I’m spending time writing blog posts…).

I probably wouldn’t have bothered, but a certain CTC commenter whose name may or may not start with K and rhyme with “Bali Belly Tim” has been sending me rude emails regarding her cumulative word count. Being American, Tim is obviously approaching the task in the manner of a 200 metre sprint, and as such is under the simplistic illusion that she’s winning, based solely on the fact that she’s written more words than I have.

I, being smarter, faster, more operatic, less red headed and more Australian than Tim, am approaching the task from the vastly more sophisticated point of view of the second innings of a one day international cricket match (Michael Clarke, if you’re reading, you could probably learn a bit from this too). While it’s true I’m about three thousand words behind on the required run rate, I also have weekends in hand and a powerful lower order pinch hitter known as “Rostered Day Off”. I’m also planning on setting a record for ninth wicket stands and ruining your summer, but I digress.

The point is …

Um…

Look how clever I am! I managed to code a graphic display into the side bar! Now those of you reading from America can kid yourselves into believing Tim is winning, while fellow members of the Commonwealth of cricket appreciating nations can calculate the required word rate and try to guess when I’m going to take the batting power play, whilst whinging about the fact that it really doesn’t belong in the game in the first place and keeping an eye on the incoming clouds in case Duckworth Lewis comes into play. But hello, it looks like 2 Rs is about to take the new ball.

See how much cooler cricket is than running?

Garry with 2 Rs

P.S. Don’t even get me started on how many words my roller skating freak of a sister has written. She’s in Canada in winter and has a broken arm, so obviously there’s nothing for her to do except be cold, write and drink hot beverages. Obviously this counts as pitch doctoring and is clearly not within the spirit of the game.

P.P.S. Ashes are just around the corner. Yeah yeah!

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