Twenty-first in the 1K a Day Motivational Series, in which I talk about something that happened in the previous week that could have or did prevent me from writing a minimum of 1,000 words on a given day, or possibly talk about something that provided support to get me through the day.
So Saturday I wrote a mighty amount, finishing up the rough draft for Gridfall, the story that was essentially my entire life for the past five months. I had ripped the words kicking and screaming from my brain, and it felt so good.
It was time to goof off. It was time to rest, let the brain relax, let the words jumble a while and see what popped out.
But I couldn’t do that. I’m writing 1,000 words a day this year. Every day. I can’t look upon my works with a smile and a shot of whiskey and say “It is done” and just fuck off for the next few weeks.
No. I have to write.
But what the hell do I write now? I finished the fucking story. I wrote it. It’s there. I have words to prove it. How the hell am I supposed to go on from there. How do I go from 5,000 words on Saturday to finish my 175k novel, to something else entirely on Sunday?
I don’t really know.
I did, though. I set aside Gridfall and said “it is done”. I had some shots and a beer. I heaved a massive sigh of relief.
And I got back to work.
I pulled out another Word document from earlier in the year, dusted it off with my eyebeams, re-read it, and started typing once more. There is no room for failure on this 1K train. There are only words and my ability to push them out. Every day feels like giving birth, just one more push, just one more and then I can rest.
But I can never rest. The Year is Long and Words Haunt My Steps like Wraiths in a Dime-Store Novel.
At this point I’m chasing the wraiths as much as they’re chasing me. They deserve it, the bloody bastards.
So take a break if you must, but don’t wait too long to continue the war, to bloody the fingers of conquest on the keyboard of battle, and always remember to write the hell on, writers.