It’s like I have nothing to say. Except…
I heard a couple of interesting tidbits today. Thing I’ll run them up in a horoscope someplace.
All right, I got feeling guilty about that, the “nothing to say” bit as I did have a few items that crossed my path. Not much, but a each little item – a great number of them got used up in scopes, but each little item has a place.
I’ve got a set number of words that I have to write, in a given day. I can’t let myself get distracted without pounding out a certain amount amount of words. That’s the secret to happiness. I tend to be obsessive, too. Writing time is like hallowed time. Sacrosanct. Holy. And having a muse like that, a drive, it can be a bitch, “Cherchez la femme,” I believe, is the remark.
“Cherchez le poisson” might be a better term these days.
Writing about the process of writing is dangerous. I’m always afraid if I quantify the magic, it will fail to happen. Talk about something too much, and it goes away, right?
It’s simple, though, the way it was passed down to me, from a noted author, there’s a certain amount of words that have to pounded out before I can do anything else. No phone, no e-mail, feed the cat, but other than making sure the mistress is properly sustained in her regal manner, there’s not a lot that can happen before the word count is reached.
Some days, it just flows. Some days, I’m in the pocket and the tempo of the keyboard, the music of the spheres, maybe my planets are aligned or something, some days, it just happens really fast. Nice and easy. Like riding a bicycle, but I can’t even recall the last time I sat on a bicycle. Last time I was on a motorcycle was within the last year. Once around the block. I’ll guess it’s like riding a bicycle, but there’s a reason why I don’t ride any more (astrological reason: prone to head injuries, no sense in tempting fate again, or poor drivers).
The way it was expressed to me, if one is to be serious about writing, then one will write four pages of manuscript-format documents each and every morning. Typed. Four pages, typed. Simple exercise.
When times are tough, and I’ll allow that sometimes the planets don’t agree with me, like leftover food that’s been in the icebox too long, it take a lot of effort to get to that point, the four pages of manuscript. This is where computers and word processors are so wonderful. Average manuscript-formated page hold about 250 words. Four pages? 1,000 words.
Now consider the length of the horoscopes. The average column I’m turning in each week weighs in at roughly 2,500 words. Some place between 2,400 and up to 3,000 words. Usually not that high, but close on some occasions.
So that’s two or three “writing days” to get a column done. Plus proof-reading, Plus copy editing. Occasionally, fact-checking. Coding. Uploading. Lot of support to make the magic happen.
But the trick is to avoid all that, don’t think about it, and work. Hallowed time. Got to finish the manuscript pages first.
I banged out a whole a column on Tuesday. Plus a long post here. Good day. Fresh material from the weekend. Plus leftovers. Good fuel. Wednesday? It was back to the same thing, a little bit more of a grind.
A total of three cups of coffee, a few distractions, and I met the self-imposed deadline
The rhythm and tempo? It’s still there, but the muse is moving a little slower today. It’s okay, doesn’t take much, a long weekend of work will bring me a whole boatload of new material. Fresh again.
