I Am Scared to Say It

Every Monday morning I have a date to write. For fear of jinxing it–for we creative types tend to be superstitious types–I am scared to say I am writing again.

Saying it is like making a promise. If I say I am writing, someone is going to hold me to it. The good part is I tend to do what I promise. The bad part is, for eighteen months, I have been incapable of keeping the promise.

Nevertheless, I will say it. Hallelujah. I am writing again. I hope for keeps this time.

The one difference between now and the other attempts is I am enjoying the writing this time. Earlier, my heart wasn’t in it. That change alone buoys me.

So the writing lessons resume for me, and then I will share them with you. As I draw in a deep breath, lift my head, lock my eyes on the sunrise, I will say it again.

I am writing.

A Date to Write — Update

In case anyone from the old Dream Station: I Want To Be a Writer blog has moved with me from Blogger.com to the WordPress world, then this is an update. If you are new to my raves, rants, and musings, then ignore the word “update” in the title.

To recap, I belong to a local writers’ group, which formed a few months ago to support the writing habit of its members. One benefit of membership is a semi-monthly date to write at the local library. Members gather in a quiet room for up to three hours of uninterrupted write time. It is an imposed discipline for those who find it hard to make time to write.

Since I am one of those persons, I love my dates to write. I have attended three sessions, averaging 750 words per session. That is good output for me.

Last Friday was the most recent  date. I produced 800 words. So my output is on the rise. I went to the session not sure where my scene was going. Nevertheless I made myself behave as a professional, ignored my doubts, and got to work. The result speaks for itself.

Since the industry standard is 80,000 words for a murder mystery, I need the equivalent of 100 dates to get the book finished. It’s a tactic that works for me.