We grow
to fill the space we have.
Over time, each room fills
with things that we could live without
but gather like memories.
If the deadline is far away
we stretch to fill the time,
break the project into small parts
or forget about it until the final moments
We should expand
into our opportunities
while we have time and space
to grow.
She saw it in his eyes
and
tilted her head modestly
hiding her smile
while he tried desperately to
catch her attention.
.
She saw it in his eyes
and
extended her left hand
to accept the ring,
the sign of promise.
.
She saw it in his eyes
and
handed back the ring
letting him go
no regrets.
.
She saw it in his eyes
and
welcomed him beside her,
his fears conquered,
stood at the altar,
moved into the future.
.
She saw it in his eyes
and
held the babies close
while he gushed
about the woman he admired
.
She saw it in his eyes
and
let him grieve the loss
as they left behind
wishful thinking
.
She saw it in his eyes
and
embraced their passion
commitment
longevity.
.
She saw it in his eyes
and
each time he was broken
she brought out the glue
to piece him back together
held him tightly
.
She saw it in his eyes
and
let him be,
let all enfold,
and
it was
fine.
The wind chimes
on my back deck
honour the day
intoning like sonorous church bells
calling for celebratory worship.
My mentor says
there’s only one way to write:
one word at a time.
She’s right.
There’s only one way to finish
a project though,
and that’s to keep putting
one word at a time onto the page
until the page is full
and to keep doing that
day after day.
If you want to finish a
100,000 word novel
You can do it
in a year writing
just 274 words day,
that’s not even 2000 words a week.
It’s about daily diligence.
You eat a banquet
one bite at a time.
Develop a habit,
commit a little each day.
30 minutes will do it
so long as you keep doing it,
writing one word
at a time.
.
.
.
(113 words)
(Or you can join NaNoWriMo next November 1st, write 1668 words every day, and have the 100,000 words done by the new year. That’s a whole lot more stress, though!) 🙂
PS.
Writers Digest is on my wavelength today. Here’s an article on Writing Routines. #1 is ‘Write 500 words a day.’ How’s that for a coincidence? http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agents/7-writing-routines-that-work
YAY! Celebrate with me! Today I met my monthly word count goal of 15,000 words!
I shall continue working on my goal to write a minimum of 500 words a day.
Small steps still complete a journey!
I’ve won NaNo twice before, but always by the skin of my teeth, catching up desperately at the end. This is the first time that I finished more than a week ahead of schedule. It’s quite exciting! 🙂
.
500 words is a rather modest goal, but it’s more about the habit. No excuses. Write a little bit every day. It worked. When I was too tired to write, I’d think, “Well, it’s only 500 words. I can do that.” And I could. So far, I only missed meeting the goal one day, though even that day I wrote something. I averaged 800 words a day, some days barely over 500, some days nearly 2000 words. The project is supposed to come out around 40,000 words, and I had 10,000 before I started CampNaNoWriMo, so I’m around 25,000 now. I check the outline, and write a bit that fits in somewhere. Lately the plot has turned in an intriguing direction. It still fits within the parameters of the outline, but in unexpected ways.
Of course, I am also doing NaPoWriMo this month. I can’t rush that, so every day a new poem (for better or worse) arrives on the page.
Chug. Chug. Chugging away with assorted writing projects.
The most challenging projects at the moment are the academic ones. I have a series of articles to write for a magazine to promote my school, and I have papers to get written for a grad school class I’m taking. I’m really glad to have this four day weekend, so I can write all day for a few days!
How about you? What are you writing?
In drenched sleep
dreaming
computer rests across my knees
I’m writing
with neck crooked awkwardly
of you
and what happens next
in my favourite novel
and pondering the universe
until wisdom unfolds.
I type it all down,
in my dream
take dictation
from the subconscious
but when I awaken
there are neither words
nor keyboard
and all wisdom has evaporated
in the steam,
or drizzled down the drain.
I’m wearing Misty’s shoes;
her ghost clings to them
billowing behind the clicking heels
in the hallway.
Misty set these shoes
on the foot rest of her
wheelchair, but I’m dancing
to her memory down corridors,
blowing kisses to the sky
through windows
wide with wishes.
.
.
.
A few years ago on eBay I bought a pair of black and white Fluevog Harlows: T-straps on towering spool heels . Misty’s sister told me about how they were selling her shoes after her untimely death from cystic-fibrosis. I was so impressed with what she told me about her feisty sister over a brief correspondance, that I created a shoe-oholic character called Misty in the Grace books 3 & 4. The manuscript is sitting on a shelf, waiting for polishing. Someday you’ll get to meet her fictional namesake. In the meantime, you can admire her excellent taste in shoes:
Number one
occupational
health hazard for
flight attendants
is falling
during turbulance,
for hair stylists:
hair slivers,
for teachers
it’s vocal damage.
Today,
my throat concurs
and longs for Ricola
and honeyed tea.
Today,
teaching hurts.
I drive a lime aphid
along a grey ribbon,
through rippling hills
and valleys of
green velvet
along teal satin waters
beneath a blue silk sky
dusted with tufts of batting fluff.
.
.
(The aphid is actually a Beetle, but the colour is right). 😉
The narration of your life
reads like a psychological thriller:
danger around every corner,
tension ramped to pain,
each character a potential villain
set to betray you,
and you’ve been betrayed, I know.
You’ve built your fortress
high and wide
and peek over cautiously
in your dark camouflage,
searching for the enemy
ready to defend
the small safety zone
you’ve carved for yourself.
You will survive,
because the protagonist
must overcome.
On the power of your words,
your resilience will rise
above the tormented tragedy
of your history
and you will embrace the destiny
that awaits your discovery.
I believe in your joyfully
mundane denouement.
Shawn L. Bird 