Wednesday, March 15, 2017

The Ides of March

So, today is the fifteenth, what they call The Ides of March.  In honor of the Roman new year and the assassination of Caesar, I figured I'd make a post.

I've now written more that forty-five days in a row, with no real reason to stop (although the other night, ye gods, I did not want to do any writing, and pretty much stopped after about three hundred words).  If you have been following Big's blog/Facebook posts, it's been kind of life-changing for the guy.  His outlook, his self-image, even his hair color has changed.

For me, the thing that's remarkable, is that I'm actually getting my writing projects done.  I've expressed before that there's only so much gas in the tank for each idea that I get.  Some of them I manage to keep going until I finish, some of the ideas have enough of a reservoir to last several months (or years), but a lot of them run dry long before I get to my destination.

But writing every day, and trying to write a significant amount every day (Big's goal is a thousand words daily, and that is actually quite a lot), has been just what the doctor ordered.*  Even though it's still a struggle to get to the end of a novella, when I'm writing them in only five or six weeks, instead of six months to a year, it's enabled me to push through with purpose, and think about the next project I'm going to tackle, knowing I may actually get to it before the idea has completely faded from my mind.

Plus, being able to write those holiest of words (no, Mom, not "drunk cheerleader;" but that's a close second) every month or so does wonders for my morale.

Don't get me wrong, I still feel like a total loser, and the fact that I objectively am doesn't help matters, but at least I'm a creatively-fulfilled loser.

At this rate, I should finish "Ten Thousand Coffins" by the end of March, and then . . . what?  I could start on the next Ben Parks adventure (the one with the old man with a secret), I could write "The Sin Eater" (a project I had literally forgotten existed until yesterday), I could write a story for a contest (there's another one just about to begin), or I could try again to write a novel (that seems to be where the money is).  The sky could be the limit, as long as I do the work.

Here's to you, Gaius Julius Caesar.

Rish Outfield, The Chides of March

*And I'm not talking about Doctor Kevorkian this time.

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