🌤 The Weather, the Words, and the Country Station

🌤 Today’s Weather in Illinois

Homer Glen’s still pretending it’s summer — mid-80s, bright skies, a breeze that doesn’t know what month it is.

Around noon, I did my usual ritual: caffeine, two ibuprofen (preventive maintenance), and a snack-while-writing — blueberry Fantastic Four Pop-Tarts and Dr Pepper. The chocolate waffles are long gone; the household vultures took care of those weeks ago.

Lunch came later, right after my mom and brothers got back from grocery shopping. My brother always makes a batch of hot dogs and Polish sausages so he can eat fast and relax. I took a few small pieces of hot dog and tossed them into my salad — not gourmet, but efficient.

The soundtrack? US99, Chicago’s country heartbeat.
In the span of a few hours, it went from “I’m Gonna Love You” by Cody Johnson, to “She’s in Love with the Boy” by Trisha Yearwood, to “Somewhere Over Laredo” by Lainey Wilson.
Basically, a full emotional arc before lunch — romance, nostalgia, and a little heartbreak for seasoning. My kind of writing fuel.

✍️ Word Count Update

Starting point (Sept 27): 64,660 words
Today’s count (Oct 11): 69,386 words
Progress this stretch: +4,726 words

Apparently, snacks and country radio do more for my productivity than any self-help book ever has.
I didn’t expect to add this much, but the story’s finally catching wind — that kind of rhythm you only hit after cutting what doesn’t belong and trusting what does.

It’s not just about word count anymore. It’s about movement — the sense that each paragraph is part of a longer march toward something that actually feels finished.

🧭 Next Week

Every time I go to schedule this newsletter, Beehiiv politely suggests 1 p.m. — “the best time to publish.”

Adorable.

No one’s reading, but sure, let’s aim for peak engagement. Maybe one day the algorithm and I will both believe in miracles.

Still, who knows? Maybe once these books are out, I’ll pick up a few million readers just to prove Beehiiv right.

Until then, the words keep coming, the mic’s still on, and the drink’s still cold.

— A.L. Bellettiere