I am a writing machine, me. A living writing machine. This very single day I wrote single-handedly a full chapter of 's and my SF-Con-Murder novel, to the tune of Two Thousand, Eight Hundred and Thirty Five words.
I am a hero yet unsung of, but no worries, the songs are coming soon.
Or, at least, 's whines.

Nothing like the feeling of accomplishment fairly acquired by writing Two Thousand, Eight Hundred and Thirty Five words.
Next time I'll try it with Two Thousand, Eight Hundred and Thirty Six.