Milestone

Not to be confused with gallstones or kidney stones.  No.  I'm talking about an achievement, a mile marker in the current project.  I have reached, and now surpassed 50,000 words.  That's right, 50 G's.  Normally 50 G's in one place would sound like a recipe for disaster, the chances of gang violence escalating with each additional gangster.  But here, in this instance, 50 G's is just right.  It's a happy medium between how many words I will ultimately write in my current novel and the place where I started, an idea and a single sentence.

On until the end  I shall go, typing away, trying to keep up with the current goal of 2,000 word per day.  And, when it's over, rewrite, rewrite, rewrite.

Tortoise and the Hare

I'm pumping out 2,000 words of pure literary weight a day now (probably 2,000 lbs of crap but still literary crap).  It seems that the faster I write, the faster I want to write.  I know that I could finish every project with slow and steady, but I like to get to the finish.  That way I can start on the rewrites and editing and get on to the next project.

I Hit the Wall and the Wall Won

Well, not literally, but yesterday, midway through writing, I just got stuck.  Suddenly, I was second guessing every word I wrote.  It was like I was unable to make a decision about anything without first second guessing it, then changing my mind and writing something else.  After a while, I got to where I wouldn't like that word or sentence either until I didn't even like the direction the story was going.

I stuck it out and put in the 1,000 words for the day quota that I have set for myself (a thousand words of shit but a thousand words nonetheless).  Still uncertain about what I had written, I saved it and waited on the next day to come.

It came, and oddly enough, I carried this indecision into the workplace.  Hell, I'm still doing it now!

It's really pissing me off.  Grow some balls.  Get some confidence.  How bad can it be?

I can't imagine what I could be afraid of.  Failure?

Yeah that's probably it.  Even now these one line paragraphs are killing me.

But seriously, am I that afraid of failure that I would let it stop me from succeeding?

In the words of many great Oklahomans who dare not swear but would rather keep their souls clean by only hinting at it, "F that."

Followers

OK.  By show of hands, who does not read my blog?

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Oh, good.  Just as I thought.  Everyone reads it.

Literary Defecation

Is it better to put words out onto the page without a thought to what you are saying other than you are telling a story about X, or is it better to think about the words you use?  I'd be curious to see what other writers think of the subject.  My gut tells me that about half would say that you should just write whatever shit comes into your head and then fix on rewrite, and the others would say you still have to put some thought into the words or you'll end up trying to wrap a bow on the terd you spent half of the year squeezing out.

Today, I'd say I'm in the former group, squeezing out nuggets to polish in the future. 

Writer's Sludge

I noticed tonight that like some other times, probably when I'm not too into writing at the moment (possibly also a moment when I'm less than confident about the writing or story), I have a hard time getting the words to flow.  The ideas seem to flow right out of my head and into space as I talk out the next paragraph or two in my head instead of writing themdown, but when I come back to reality and try to write it down, I inevitable stumble around and write something somewhat different.

It's what I would like to call Writer's Sludge.  It's not writers block in the sense that you can keep writing when you have it.  The problem with the sludge is that while you continue to write the words (and/or sentences) they come unnaturaly and in a stuttering fashion.  It's as if you are walking through some kind of slimy swamp to get to the next page, the end of the chapter, or even the end of the story.

This experience is in stark contrast to those times when the words are flowing beautifully.  During those moments, it seems like the writing is perfect.  On rewrites and edits, those sections tend to need the least overhauling.  The words tend to be spelled right, the best words are used, the sentences flow, and the ideas are superb.

But what is it about this sludge that seems to keep me from the beautifull prairie full of flowers and butterflies that results in "perfect" writing?  I have to wonder if other writers experience the same slow downs, what they do to avoid or get out of the sludg, and what they think causes it.

HH

No, the title does not stand for Henry Hudson, Hairy Hookers (gross), or Happy Henchmen.  It doesn't stand for the nearly infinite number of other H word combinations that you could come up with.  HH stands for Happy Hour as many of you business workforce types already know.  The anticipated, or sometimes dreaded, happy hour. 

We've all been there.  You have some drinks.  You hang out.  You make some jokes you probably shouldn't have.  You listen to some jokes that you wish you'd never heard.  All in the name of unwinding and having some fun, or in some cases, in the name of looking good and saving face in front of your boss.

Well, I was lucky enought to have the priveledge of attending a happy hour this evening with some very great people and a wonderful host.  The problem is that while it was fun I really wanted to do some writing when I got home and maybe even read a few pages of my current novel (working on Steven King's Insomnia - it's a long one).  However, the drink made me tired, and I'm not sure I have my wits about me to write a stellar novel, or even a chapter thereof (much less read someone else's).

I guess we'll all find out in the end as I'm going to give it a shot.  I won't tell you which chapter I am currently writing, so I don't spoil the surprise.

Day Two

Well it's day two, and I'm still here.  That's a good sign I hope.  maybe if I at least get a few lines in here and a few lines in there ("there" being in the novel), I'll come out well rounded with a good book to peddle and a social life of sorts, even if it is online.

I can be thankful today, not only for the wonderful state of my affairs, but also for the fact that I no longer hear children's nursery music repeating in my head like some bad nightmare that I can't wake up from.  It's really not so bad when you are hearing it in person, but when it's the only thing you hear, repeating over and over in your head until you can't think anymore, that's when we can all be glad that I do not own a gun.  Not that I would ever use it.  But ohhhh it's so tempting to stop the cute and cuddly songs.