Hey, been a while. I missed what, like 4 posts? The month is pretty much half over and this is probably going to the first of, at most, 5 posts. That can't be helped. Well let's put my lack of a consistent schedule to the side and get to the meat of today's meal. It's Wednesday, which means it's time for some writing updates. Let's get to this weeks "Tales From a Roving Mind". That really is an ostentatious title for a simple writing journal isn't it? Whatever. On to the post!


I have to make a confession, I've been slacking off this month. Until recently I missed 2 days of writing. I've doubled that this month alone. And on a few of the days I did write, I wasn't very productive. Last night was a good night, I write at night, I got 1,500 words down. The night before was less than 600. I'm not pleased with myself.

The goal I set for myself is to have this book written, edited, formatted, and available as and Ebook by the end of this year. It's a hell of task. I have not been giving it my all. I was just happy that I was writing consistently. That isn't good enough. I get the feeling this may be my last chance to prove I can do this.

I'm at a point in my life, a point I wish I had reached ten years ago, where I need to pull myself up and start moving forward. I won't get into personal details, no reason to, suffice it to say I'm too old to be unemployed and grasping at a possibly unattainable goal.

The thing is, until I know it's actually unattainable I can't move on. So writing this book is my attempt to find out the truth. Of course I'm not getting any younger so I gave myself a time limit. My original goal, when the year started, was a 100 page novella. That story didn't work, which you would know if you've been reading these posts. So I started, went back to actually, this story and finally found the thing that I can sink my teeth into.

And I did. I have done more work on this story than any other project I've ever had. Still I'm not sure if it's going to be enough. I've been doing the math and things aren't adding up.

This story takes place over 1 week. That's from Monday to Friday, possibly including Saturday. Each day is it's own part. So the book will be broken down in sections and then chapters. I've just started Wednesday, which maybe the longest day, and I'm already at 144 pages. That may not seem like a lot but after the rewrite which will add quite a bit to the Monday section, this might end up being 75 to 100 pages per section.

That could mean a total of 500 to 600 pages. That's a lot of writing to get through in less than 7 months. When you add editing, rewriting and formatting. It's an almost impossible goal. Especially when I'm averaging 3 pages a day.

This means that I have to amp up my output. I try for 1,000 to 1,500 words a night but I should be going for 5,000. The most I've ever written is around 2,500. Doubling that seems like an impossibility.

Make no mistake I don't plan for the finished work to be that long. I'm sure I'll be able to get it down to around 350 pages. Which is great but that has no effect on exactly how long this will be before then. I'm doing a serious stream of mind thing. I have a very loose, like pants 3 sizes to big, outline but for the most part I'm doing this by the seat of said pants. I think that's why this is working. If I tried to do it with more of a plan I don't think it'd work as well.

With that in mind I could very well end up writing a full 600 pages before I can even attempt to start a rewrite. If that's a possibility it would take the rest of this year, at the pace I'm going, before I can even attempt an edit.

To make my deadline I need to work much harder. One of the other things you may know if you've read these points is that I'm not fond of writing. It's not a pleasant experience for me. It's like pulling teeth. I can honestly say that writing this has been easier but it's still not easy.

Which gets me back to where I started. The slacking. I've found myself hitting a wall recently. Not only have I not been able to get the words out as easily, I've felt less of a drive to try. I was able to force myself last night but it was difficult. I've never been very good at being strict with myself. I've always allowed myself to get away with things. I don't have a lot of personally control. I'm like a very easy going parent that allows their child to do whatever they want. Except I’m the kid and the parent.

There's a great comic I've seen that perfectly exemplifies this.

That is me. So how do I get myself to do the work I've set out for myself?

Fear.

Fear is the greatest motivator. I'm terrified that writing isn't what I should do. If I made a mistake and have bet my future on the wrong horse I can't imagine how I'd feel. That fear is what I'm using to drive myself. I have to write or else my life was a waste, even more so than I would have thought. I know that's a little dramatic, but it's about the most honest statement I can make.

There's something else that drives me. I've been reading manga for a while now, probably 15 years actually. One of the first ones I ever picked up is called Hajime No Ippo. It's a sports manga, boxing to be exact, that has been in production since the 80's. It's one of my all time favorites. There’s one image, it's my desktop wallpaper, that really motivates me.

Do you see that look? The one on his face? That feeling of accomplishment is what I'm striving for. More than anything I want to have that moment. Fear is what pushes me to write but the chance to have that feeling is what keeps me positive. I've always been a pessimist, because the way I figure it if I expect shit to go wrong and it does then at least I was right. If things don't go wrong then I get to be happily surprised. Even with that I still have this small little bit of optimism in me.

There's this little happy, smiling, shining, little boy inside of me. He's telling me that I can get that moment if I keep going.  I want that silly little bastard to get the chance to make that face.

Fear and a hope. Hope by the way is something I hate. I know that’s and odd thing to say. But I find hope to be debilitating. When you hope you end up sitting on your ass waiting. I know, I’ve done it. Still, it’s such an intoxicating emotion. As much as I hate hope I can’t give it up. 

I don’t love my fear but I respect it. As for that hope, I hate it but I still have. Those two, vastly different, emotions are always clashing in my head when I write. Maybe if I was more centered I’d get more work done. Who knows?

I've gone off course here. I'm just going to end this now. So a quick update, 144 pages which is 80,953 words. Hopefully next week it'll be over 90,000 maybe 100,000 even. We'll both find out next Wednesday. See you then.