writers really do suffer you know...

     So I've read from time to time about people settling down to write The Novel. They set daily goals for themselves, don't you know. I've seen them set for themselves as many as two thousand words a day.
     Two thousand words. Give that a moment.
     Below you'll find today's contribution to my Novel. It is two hundred nineteen words long. Don't worry if you don't know what's going on, that's not the point. The point is that this cost me three hours of labor. Three hours, two hundred nineteen words, for a full day's work. Nor is that unusual for me. I consider anything over two hundred words at a sitting to be a decent haul. Three hundred is astonishing. What's more, I've usually mulled over the work for several days before I can write it down. Finally, it can sometimes take me many more hours to reach that two hundred words.
     That's about a page at a time, written at an agonizingly slow pace.
     How in the hell are people banging out two thousand words a day? Whatever. Without further ado, I give you today's haul. It is a crucial transition in the early part of the story, and again, it took three hours to make. Le sigh.
********

     He started as the phone rang yet again. He had been lulled to sleep it seemed long ago, yet another dreamless sleep followed by that vague memory of something, something he had no time to ponder as he reached for that phone.
     ‘Yes.’

     ‘I trust you’re enjoying your flight.’

     The voice on the other end was new, an older man’s voice, somewhat wispy to the mechanic’s ear.
     ‘It’s been pleasant enough,’ he replied.

     ‘Good.’ There was a pause, then ‘You sound like him.’

     The mechanic considered the darkness outside his window. ‘Who?’

     ‘Your father.’

     ‘Yeah, I hear I have his chin as well.’

     Silence for almost a minute, then ‘When you arrive, we’ll make sure you get to your hotel. In your room you’ll find a tablet with all the particulars. If you need anything, our man will take care of it.’ After another pause, ‘Do you have any pertinent questions?’
     ‘Sure. How did you know the Old Man?’

     After an even longer pause, punctuated by the other man’s wispy breathing, ‘Do enjoy the rest of your flight.’
     At that, the call ended abruptly. The mechanic checked the phone log. The last call was from a blocked number. ‘Of course,’ he said aloud, tossing the phone onto the next seat. 

     With that, he stretched out and fell asleep again.