Update:
As of 11:59 p.m. on 11/8 I have 6,420 words. But the night is young.

Morale:
Good enough. My internal editor is finally starting to break down (it takes a while), so the word count should be heading upwards soon. Quality, on the other hand...

Excerpt:

Dahl is one of the best fraud analysts around. His colleagues think he's a little odd, a little grim. He has no apparent interests outside the data. He comes to work late, but he stays later. He's oblivious to office politics. He barely acknowledges his boss, and his very presence makes upper management uncomfortable. He burns through sick time, and often shows up looking like he hasn't slept in days.

But no one would fire him; his work is that good. He finds fraud the other analysts would miss. He's helped various banks recover $8 million in the last year alone.

"How do you do it?" one of his co-workers was bold enough to ask one day while Dahl was filling a paper cup with muddy coffee in the office kitchen.

He stares at the speaker for a long moment, as if processing how so much audacity can come out of a guy only as high as his own stubbled chin. "You have to be looking for something specific," he finally says as he walks away.

Dahl goes back to his desk, thinking that letting that sentence out of his mouth is the first mistake he's made in years, which only reminds him of his last mistake, and makes his mood more dangerous.