I had previously (months ago, back in March, just after my birthday) created a goal of finishing a first draft of the current work in progress by the end of June. Three months, from April to the end of June, would be, I thought, plenty of time to complete it, as when I do write, I write very quickly, since the scenes have been bouncing around in my head for awhile – in a few cases, over twenty years.
If you have read a couple of the older entries here, you’ll know this did not happen. However, you’ll also know that there is a reason behind it. I had to switch from doing the actual writing to wrestling with that rather annoying (and, I had thought, forgotten) issue. I believe I’ve kicked it down enough at this point to not be as huge an impediment to getting some serious work done and get the novel (first novel!) rolled out.
Toward the end of June, I decided to also simply push aside social media. I had done this before, with some good success, but some events in June pulled me back to facebook. Today, though, is the end of the first full day with zero visits to the three social media platforms I more or less surf around: twitter (where I do more scrolling past people hawking their books nonstop and the people retweeting them than finding actual news or interesting tidbits), instagram (dogs!), and facebook (the Mothership of the Time Sink Armada). I used the time to address a few things that had to be done, and today – day two, since the clocked tolled past midnight almost an hour ago at this point – I will begin working my way back into the writing pool, with a low hanging target of 250 words. That’s right: about one typeset page. This post is longer than that, but I’d rather work the novel writing upward in a gentle manner, instead of trying to be like the gym cowboys who show up after New Year’s, work out for six hours, then cannot move the next day and eventually let it slide.
Almost every writer on the planet says “write every day”. I’m a believer of that myself. It is not, however, because I think that such writing has to be done because the train has to keep moving forward nonstop – after all, it’s possible whatever was written on day x may not make it into the final draft, or may be cut down significantly, or rearranged, or whatever else could be done to it. I think, at least in my case, it is because when it becomes a habit to write every day, it is like any other routine that becomes ingrained in our lives, done automatically, without a lot of thought that it could be terrible, that everyone will hate it, that a meteor will fall from the sky and crush you at your desk for daring to write. Instead, it will be just another part of the rhythm of the day, and will be eventually be noticeable by its absence rather than its presence.
So, here we begin. The map is laid out, and the path is faintly scratched over it to the destination to which we strive, but those lines await a heavier hand with the pen, to clearly define the journey’s progress. I have the greatest expectation that this time things will be different, because sometimes digging at the scars of your psyche is the only way to get to the truth, and then gain the ability to move large obstacles from the very start of the trail to discovery.