Open a book. Count the words on the page. Write that many words. About anything. Or the same word over and over again. You do you.
134 words. One-hundred and thirty-four words.
To be fair I chose The Lost Library, and a page that only had half the words. Page 111. The beginning of chapter Twenty-Three. Do these words I’m writing now count? I guess I make the rules and they do count?
It makes me think about how Dickens was said to have been paid by the word, and simultaneously, how haiku poets choose words based on the number of syllables. That counting words is a thing we do. “Write a 75 bio, I’m often asked to do that.” Or when writing a review, they only give you a certain amount of characters. And it helps to edit it. I even entered multiple short story and micro-fiction challenges. My sweet spot is 300 words. 100 is too short. 500 is fun. One thousand and I start to get unfocused. Right now I’m in the last throes of writing a 42 chapter novel (because the number 42 makes my heart happy, but I’ve fudged the numbers and done every chapter twice, and have two beginnings and three endings. I’m sure my editor to be will find me a nightmare to work with because I have this secret formula I’m writing to, that doesn’t really made and reasonable sense. And I’m ok with that. Actually I love it. Having a secret guideline pushing my book and my characters along that has nothing to do with plot, but everything to do with a chaos of form…it makes me happy.) uh oh. How many words was that?
Ha. 258. Do I edit it down? Or do I fudge the math? Or do I just say, oh. I’ve written something and now I can go to bed.
I think that.
I had a magical first day at my ArtMaze job and I’m terribly excited, but also exhausted because I could not sleep out of excitement last night. So I played Stardew Valley instead. And was still excited to go to my first planning meeting.
But tonight I have to sleep, because I have my first real dr rust appointment since I walked out of the office of my last appointment…on March 14th, 2020. The day after the pandemic hit Ottawa. And I didn’t even get my teeth cleaned. Because I was having a day. And I was so embarrassed I never went back.
Isn’t that awful? What the weight of embarrassment and shame and anxiety kept me from doing? Looking after my own teeth.
So hopefully tomorrow will be a relaxing visit. And then I get to drive to my magical Monday job. And Tuesday I get to pick up my kids.
And on Wednesday they both start their new school.
It’s a big week, and I think it needed more than 134 words.
I hope your Monday has a small bit of magic in it.
Heart,
Wake
P.S. I didn’t even get to talk about the cake fridge! But the cake was INCREDIBLE. And the cake fridge on the side of the road experience a magical thing. (It is pictured below, and the Death by Chocolate was *waves hand around excitedly* beyond words delicious.)
Wake, so excited for this “choose your own adventure/reach whichever plot speaks to you today” book!