"Why am I working so hard? Going for 400 books, perhaps, but who's really counting? Maybe in 10 years. Maybe if I live long enough. Maybe if I still have a head that works in old age. Maybe if I can just, following the Asimov model, type faster."
How did I miss it? As of yesterday, when the piece showed up in the Huffington Post, Our Jane has written her three hundredth book.
Three hundred. That's a three, two zeros. 300.
I suspect she did not do it by futzing around on the internet much of the day. Which means I'm going to stop typing this in a couple of sentences and get back to work. But -- three hundred. It's a staggering, gobsmacking amount. Poetry. Picture books. Chapter books. Novels. Three hundred books.
And she remembers them all, of course.
However did she do it? Butt in chair, obviously.
Back to work, kids.
x-posted (with much more rambling) @ tanita's blog.