Somehow during the holiday road trip that delivered us to friends and family and 13 different beds, I found myself with 7 entire minutes to myself. Until that moment, the time I had to complete a thought or speak a sentence or tie my own shoes was averaging 9 seconds, so 7 minutes really let my mind take a nice wander. I think I have a Grinch movie and a plate of French fries in the other room to thank for the reprieve from zipping up little coats and yelling “no biting!” and refereeing dumb fights about who said you can't really wash anything off at so-and-so’s house the other day, which could sound deep but definitely was not spoken that way.
Where my thoughts wandered was to the new year. Not to resolutions, which I never make, but to the new stretch of time that seems to begin in January. I didn't want to spend it aimlessly, continuing to feel like I'm not accomplishing as much as I want. Yes, continuing to show up and write is an accomplishment, but I want a good draft of this novel, too.
So I picked a month. June. Could I get my draft into better shape by then. A shape that would let me feel only mild terror if I let someone read it, and critically, not feel the urge to explain plot points to that reader because they should all be on the page by then. It wouldn't be a draft with perfect dialogue ready to hit the presses, just one I’d feel OK about.
I think I'm about 6 non-consecutive chapters away. I kept dividing and dividing until I found a daily word count that was high enough to be challenging but realistic enough to be accomplished. It's not a situation where merely piling on words is going to solve everything, but it felt like a helpful target to keep momentum going.
I have a lot of the words I need scattered about already, so it seems reasonable, maybe generous, to do 6 chapters in 6 months when considering I only get to write in short stints on the subway a few times each week.
I used to do math in my head when I couldn’t fall asleep. I’d add up tips from my waitressing shifts or think through some simple budget until I drifted off, the numbers giving my brain something soft to focus on. I’m hopeful thinking of this draft in terms of numbers can keep me from my familiar stumbles — hating my dialogue, getting needlessly snagged on continuity issues before I need to, getting frustrated that I wasn't born knowing exactly how the story goes. Letting those things fall away while I focus on getting 6 chapters done a few hundred words at a time could help. Let’s see how long it lasts.
Week 97: 🤓
Some everyday: No
Words: 250ish on one subway commute day
See you next week.
Here’s to a new goal and your determination. Onward!