Recalling another anniversary (my life is full of ’em!), this one being my retirement from the U.S. Air Force in November, 1995. I was stationed at Onizuka Air Station in Sunnyvale, California. This song, “Cumbersome,” by Seven Mary Three, was a popular tune of the time. To paraphrase the lyrics, I’d enjoyed my military career and had some success, but it had become cumbersome.
“Good noon,” the man said with a nod as he passed by.
Drawing up, she consulted her Apple Watch. He was right; it was exactly noon.
Don’t you love it when you’re writing, and lightning strikes?
Yeah, me, too.
Happened yesterday. A writing lightning strike is when I assume the position to write, and dictation begins. My job is only to keep up with the typing.
I track word counts as an incidental measure of progress. These are *almost* like the miles being traveled while on a trip. In a car, I generally know exactly where I’m going and how much I have left because I travel across a well-measured and documented region. Detailed maps are available. I know how far I’ve gone, and what distance remains.
I’d love to have such a map for my novel writing. I don’t. Word counts present an idea of how far I’ve gone, but little idea of how much further I must travel in the novel. In the end, all that matters I’ve typed and written until I finally type “The End”.
Word counts help me gauge what’s normal and inject some minor reward and satisfaction. Yesterday, I ended up with twenty-six hundred more words on my novel journey. Some writers may poo-poo that amount – and I’m not pursuing N2WM – but it’s higher than my average. Best, though, I completed three chapters being concurrently developed. In essence, they were part of a sequence of events. I wrote them in order, but as details developed, I backtracked to modify and align details and the timeline. Best, number two, is that completing them left me with a starting location for today. Best, number three, is that satisfaction of bringing more to the story and moving toward the novel’s completion.
Will lightning strike twice? I offer the late Roy Sullivan as evidence it could. Roy, a park ranger, was struck by lightning and lived seven times, and is the Guinness World Records official record-holder for those categories.
Time to write like crazy, at least one…more…time.
Have you ever become frustrated when removing a seal on something, because you followed the instructions, but instead of coming away, the seal split apart, leaving another seal in its place that you need to fingernail away?
Yeah, me, too.