Jimmy Dugan in A league of their own
I am not one of those writers who can spew out tens of thousands of words with gattling gun intensity.
The mere thought of writing 50,000 words in a month for National Novel Writing Month sends me straight to the swooning couch.
To even contemplate it, I would have to amputate all paid and non-paid commitments from my life, throw out my husband, put the kids in an orphanage, and sub-let the beagle, the ageing cat and assorted family members to a range of professional carers.
I admit it. I am slow.
Christie Brown could write faster than me with his left foot.
If it wasn’t for a conveniently apple-shaped child in my age group, I would have come last in every race, every year of my schooling life.
The Speedy-Gonzales fairy didn’t come to my christening. But that’s OK, because the stubborn, persistent and sheer bloody-minded fairies not only came, they refused to go home.
I get there eventually.
Last month, I committed to writing a page a day despite a gazillion other commitments. It seemed achievable and it was. Despite all the usual distractions and a bonus flu that had me sounding like Barry White, the act of writing every day reignited my passion for my story.
Now I’m really firing, 33,000 words into it and ramping up the word count. I’ve even signed up for the 1000 Words A Day Challenge.
For me, that’s hard, but achievable. And it comes with a bonus – 1000 words a day will allow me to finish the first draft before school breaks up and my writing life
ends becomes even more fragmented.
(BTW, blogging is NEVER part of daily word count, so don’t think this 350 words counts. It doesn’t. On that note, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to fire a few rounds into the w-i-p.)