Supplemental

It’d be nice if I wrote every day, but it’s also unrealistic if I want to maintain my full-time job and semblance of a social life. So I’ll skip a day or two, usually during the work week. If I skip writing for two days in a row I start to feel it, so I usually don’t skip three.

I was shooting for 1,000 words a day and actually meeting it, for a while. But I lost my mojo a bit over the past couple weeks, so I brought it down to 500 words a day. Done. Better to work less than not work at all.

When I skip a day I try to make up for it the next day, so that I’m still writing my requisite number of words per day. If I’m revising something I increase my per-day word count because revising isn’t as taxing on my attention as composing. I’ve been alternating frequently between composing new stuff and revising old stuff, and it’s good to know that I can switch easily between those two modes. Soon enough I’m going to be delving into revising a 30k word project, so that’ll be taking up most of my time for a good month or so (that’s ‘691 Suburban Dr’).

Here’s an excerpt from a funny story I finished a couple weeks ago. I think the best ideas can be summed up in a sentence, and the one I came up with when I thought of the idea for this story was “cum as protein supplement for college gym bunnies.”

The other day Johnny came in to gym. I was at the desk, being a gym monitor, which is what I do for work – putting weights away, cleaning off machines.

Johnny was there to work out. He’s my bro. We have a couple classes together and he lifts as much as I do so we’re always hanging out.

I said something to him about his shoulders because they were looking good.

“I’m not juicing if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said.

“No, no,” I said. His shoulders looked uber pumped but Johnny didn’t seem like the steroid type. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Biff is one of our bros and he shoots up. It looks good on him, it’s just not for me. “I just meant, are you doing something different?” Johnny gave me this look.

“Not exactly. I’m doing supplements, but a different kind.”

“Ah okay,” I said. “Is it from GNC?” Johnny looked around. He leaned toward me and talked low over the clanking weights, whirring treadmills and grunts form the guys doing dead lifts on the other side of the room.

“I’m eating my jizz,” he said.

“What?” Johnny just laughed.

“I read about it on the internet. It’s protein, you know? And testosterone. I put it in with my shake.”

“Dude,” I said. Then I had to laugh. “That’s sick.”

“It’s natural. It’s, like, putting back in your body the helpful stuff that goes out when you cum.”

Johnny was still working out when my shift was done so I did some squats and bicep curls with him, then we hit the shower.

“So if it’s supposed to be so good for you, how come my girlfriend doesn’t get all pumped and jacked and shit when she swallows my load?” Johnny shrugged. He ran his soapy hands over his smooth and bulging torso.

“I’m not saying it’s a miracle. It’s just an extra boost. Plus, be real – how often does she really swallow your load, anyway?”

When I got home I tried to find the article on the internet that Johnny was talking about but I couldn’t. Still, it seemed like it sort of made sense. And actually, if I’m being honest about things, the idea of it sorta turned me on. I figured it couldn’t hurt, and Johnny was doing it anyway.