For as long as I can remember, my favourite number has been eighteen. I just like the look of it. Every sports team I played on as a kid, had me doing my best to make sure I wore that number on my back. I looked forward to my eighteenth birthday. I smiled everywhere I saw it. It sounded so cool, and so very quickly, it became my lucky number.
I’m here today to say goodbye to eighteen, in favour of a new number. Five hasn’t been particularly prominent in my life, until today. Now I feel that I must give it the recognition it deserves. Tomorrow, I’ll be hitting a milestone in the first draft of this novel: fifty thousand words. That’s a pretty big number that starts with, you guessed it, five.
Currently, I’m sitting at forty five thousand words, which is only, yep, that’s right, five thousand away from goal number one.
I’m also only five pages away from hitting one hundred fifty.
I know I have a few more hours left in my work day to aim to reach that goal, or at least work myself closer, but this spot of fives seems way too cool to wreck just now. So I’m going to stop, and head for the checkpoint in the morning.
No, I’m not superstitious; I just like the look of a goal I can remember without having to pull up my word count every five (pun intended) minutes. Everything is running smoothly, and I couldn’t be happier.
That totally sounded obsessive compulsive.
I’m going to stop now.