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Back on the Write Every Day Bandwagon

A few weeks ago, I looked back at my word counts the past seven years and noticed something quite surprising:  The first year I got very serious about writing — in other words, treating it like a profession and not a hobby — is still my best word count year.  I wrote just over 250,000 words of fiction that year. 

Now, according to my spreadsheet, I’ve written about a million and a half words in the past seven years, so it’s not like I’ve been slacking.  Still, it’s not the level of productivity I’m happy with, not the level of productivity that I think will get me where I want to go, so I started asking myself why I didn’t exceed or at least maintain my yearly word count after that first year.  Except for a bad year in there when I was dealing with some personal issues, for the most part I’m just as serious if not more serious about the craft as I was that first year.  

Why the difference?  When I dig into the nitty gritty of the spreadsheet, it’s obvious why:  Back then I made myself write every day. 

It’s a cliche, really.  You hear it from lots of writers that you should write every day.  I’ve gone through periods the last few years where I’ve done exactly that, but I often drifted back into a five day a week routine or worse, just scheduling marathon writing days a couple times a month.  I told myself this was partly due to my life, with two young kids, a day job, and other responsibilities, but really, the numbers just don’t justify this thinking.  The numbers that first year show that it was a lot of little word counts that added up to a big result in the end.  

So  I’m back on the write every day bandwagon, determined to make this year the best word count year so far — which should happen, if I stay at my current pace.  As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, I came to 1000 words a day as the quota that works for me.  What’s really interesting is how quickly I’ve become dependent on it.  It was almost like my psyche breathed a huge sigh of relief.  There was a restlessness, an uneasiness in my personality that’s been building the last few years, and it wasn’t obvious what it was until recently. 

I’ve gotten addicted to writing.  I just hadn’t realized it yet. 

When I started writing, just writing when the mood struck, it was always fun.  When I got serious about writing, writing whether I was in the mood or not, it wasn’t always fun.  On the days when it wasn’t fun, I had to push myself into my office.  What’s interesting about the addiction is that even on the days when writing doesn’t seem fun, there’s something else pulling me to the keyboard.  It’s that feeling that if I don’t write, I won’t be right. 

Is this a good thing?  Well, it’s gotten me to write more, and it’s gotten rid of the restlessness.  Addiction can be a dangerous business, but if it’s channeled into something with few negative side effects — I guess I have to watch out for carpal tunnel syndrome — then it’s a lot better than being addicted to something far more destructive.

Conversations with Poe: How Much Is Enough?

My Muse

Me:  You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m working hard enough at this writing thing.  I’ve been doing pretty good lately, cranking out 1000 words day every day, but it never seems to be enough

Poe:  I suppose the question is, enough for what? 

Me:  Well, to achieve my goals, I guess.  To become a bestselling fiction writer.  To reach the largest audience with my stories as possible. 

Poe:  You think there’s a certain number of pages you have to write each day to achieve that?  I’d say it has more to do with luck and the fickleness of the reading public. 

Me:  I’m not saying luck doesn’t play a part, but I’ve got to believe that writing is a craft that one can achieve mastery in.  It may not be teachable, as I saw Stephen King say the other day, but it can certainly be learned.  And the best way to learn it is to read and write in great quantities — and the more you do both, the faster you will achieve success. 

Poe:  You really think so? 

Me:  Sure.  If I didn’t believe that, I’d have to give up now.  If I didn’t think I’d keep getting better, then I’d give it up.  Or take up drinking and end up dying in the gutter. 

Poe:  Not very funny. 

Me:  But my thing is, no matter how hard I work at it, I always have this nagging sense of guilt that I’m still not working hard enough.  Isn’t there a point at which I can pat myself on the back and say, yep, I’m doing all I can?  

Poe:  I suppose the problem is that you can never know if you’re doing all you can. 

Me:  Exactly.  In fact, there’s always writers working harder them me.  

Poe:  Therein lies your solution. 

Me:  What do you mean? 

Poe:  Acknowledge that no matter how hard you work, there is always another writer out there working harder than you. 

Me:  Okay . . . But that doesn’t make me feel any better. 

Poe:  I did not say it would.  I think, for the ambitious writer, living with that feeling of never doing enough is just a given.  Of course, you could always take up drinking.  Many writers do. 

Me:  Not very funny. 

A lot of people know that I’ve got an Edgar Allan Poe action figure in my writing office at home, complete with a miniature raven on his shoulder.  He sits by my computer and looks on while I type.  After a while, I started talking to him, sharing my concerns about writing, family, and life in general.  One day, amazingly, he started talking back. 

The New Addition to Our Family

This is Belle.  She came to try us out over the weekend — a one-year-old Boston Terrier looking for a new home.  With Mankato passing away only a few months ago, I wasn’t really looking to add a new dog for a while, perhaps even a year, but sometimes an opportunity presents itself.  She’s a sweetheart, and she’s won over everyone.  Well, not the cats yet.  They’re sulking in the garage.  But they’ll come around.

10 Crazy Writing Metaphors

 

  1. Writing is like having an egg salad without the eggs.  Or the salad.
  2. Writing is like holding your breath underwater while wearing scuba gear.
  3. Writing is like pretending to be Neil Armstrong while Neil Armstrong gives a speech on what it’s like to be Neil Armstrong.
  4. Writing is like going to a flea market actually run by fleas. 
  5. Writing is like being the guy in a cannon at the circus who’s naked but nobody knows it. 
  6. Writing is like remembering everything but suddenly having amnesia.
  7. Writing is like trying to talk your way out of getting a speeding ticket — on a unicycle.
  8. Writing is like making a mobius strip with a start and a finish.
  9. Writing is like waking up and having it all be real.
  10. Writing is like being a midget and a giant at the same time — on a unicycle.