Total words, ESTC: 11,553
Total words today: 1,565
See? I just have to open a file, decide what topic I’m going to work on that isn’t research-dependent (tonight it was journaling), and go. Well, that and take The Tragically Hip out of my playlist rotation. And switch off the router so that I can’t go online, and so the whine cuts out. I never really notice how insidious the whine of the router is until I turn it off, and then I wonder how I can concentrate on anything with it going.
Just to make a point to myself, I worked out some numbers as I calculated this evening’s word count. Turns out I’m already ahead of this week’s must-be-at-this-total-by-the-end-of-Friday-to-be-on-schedule word count. Every little bit over the daily word quota helps. And my natural need to push the envelope to give myself breathing room means that I automatically artificially inflate the daily quota. I am so good at doing this that I have been firmly misremembering the daily quota as being 1,300 instead of 1,200. So with my (misremembered) daily quota being 1,300, I’ve been unofficially aiming for a minimum 1,500 each day in order to create a safety net. That’s 300 words over my actual quota. Three days of that and I’m almost 1K ahead of the game. And that’s assuming I don’t fly past my quota mark, which usually happens.
There’s a lot more going on than quantity, of course. What I’m writing is important. I don’t like to put it down unless it sounds decent. It’s just that publishers like tidy numbers when you hand everything in, and aiming for the general figure they’ve asked for or you’ve pitched helps you grasp how much room you have to fill and move around in. The wordmeter is an artifical judge of how complete a work is. But it shows you how many miles there are to go, even if it doesn’t show you how to get there. The earlier I finish the rough draft, the sooner I can polish it.
It’s official: I can’t write this book to The Tragically Hip. Life is unfair.
Current Music: Lake Fever (but not for long, alas)
(Oh, okay, maybe I’ll just switch to a film score after Little Bones, then…)
Argh. A paltry 534 new words after two hours of work, because for some reason I chose to work on a section that required a lot of flipping through books and looking up information, thus not giving me a lot of actual word yield for my time. I should have chosen a topic and just brainstormed on it for a few pages instead. Bad planning on my part. Even taking into account the fact that Monday’s work put me a few hundred words ahead of the game, I’m now officially three hundred words behind where I needed to be today.
Off to run errands with ai731. I’ll have to work tonight after Liam goes to bed, which is generally a bad thing because now that I’m up at six in the morning running around with the boy, my brain dies around seven o’clock in the evening. This can’t become a regular thing.
Blessing, burden, blessing, burden. Sometimes the only difference is perspective.
Laurell K Hamilton’s talking about writing and things that happen along the way during the process, but really, this observation can be applied to just about anything.
Liam graduated to a booster seat last night, and ate at the table.
Check out that fork action! (Thank you for lending us the booster seat, Uncle Jeff, Auntie Paze, and Devon!)
Yesterday we also went out and got him new shoes, as his 12 to 18 mos Robeez and size four sandals were just too small for his chunky little feet. We got the next size up of Robeez (18 to 24 mos, yikes) because everything else had a sole an inch thick that wouldn’t bend, or cost too much. I won’t spend seventy-nine dollars for a pair of leather toddler shoes, no matter how well-made they are. I don’t even spend that kind of money on my shoes, thank you very much. I mean, good grief — that’s a week’s worth of groceries. We’ll hit the used kid-stuff store when we go down to visit my parents in two weeks and find a pair of softer lace-ups for him that won’t break the bank.