What did you do today?  I wrote 2,000 words. 

Jealous?  You should be.  It was fantastic.  I spent two entire hours this morning wandering around, doing menial tasks, listening to music, and moodling.  Dreaming.  Imagining my way into my novel, my protagonist’s past, her wounds and hurts and opinions.  And then I sat down at my laptop and pounded out 2,000 words. 

Later, I took a long stroll through the bright autumn streets, smiled at the people I passed, stopped to pet a gorgeous golden retriever who closed her eyes in the sun.  I felt great.  Because I wrote. 

I have a theory that writing is like going to the gym.  Most days, you don’t really want to do it.  You have to drag your butt there, and once you’re there, you have to drag yourself through your hour on the treadmill or at the keyboard.  Sometimes you actually enjoy it, sometimes you get into the zone and think you could do it all day, but most of the time it’s just another thing you have to fit into your already too-full schedule. 

But.  Afterward, you feel good.  You feel great.  You were tempted to go home and curl up in front of the TV, but no.  You went.  You sweated.  You did it.  And you keep going back, day after day, because you know that it’s good for you, you feel better once you’ve done it, and every once in a while, you get that feeling like you’re invincible, you’re flying, you’re amazing.  You could do this all day. 

Writing’s like that for me.  If I write every day, I feel awesome.  If I write, say, four days a week, I feel pretty darn good.  If I go for a week or two without writing, I feel sub-human.  I start hating myself and everyone I know.  I can’t stand this stupid city and my awful little apartment and the horrible people I see on the streets and the bus.  I start wondering if my PMS off-button is broken, and if I’m doomed to be an utter grinch for the rest of my life.  And then I write for a day or two, or maybe I manage to squeeze in a couple hundred words a day, fifteen minutes here and there, and I crawl out of that circle of hell reserved for blocked artists, and I start smiling at the people I pass again, and I start answering the phone when my family calls.  Writing’s that important. 

I wrote 2,000 words today, and I feel great.  I’m hoping to tack another 500 on tomorrow, if I can squeeze it in between work and date night.  I know I’ll be a better date if I can. 

And THEN, I’ll take the opportunity to come to the WRITE-A-THON on Saturday, October 18—this Saturday!—from 9am to 9pm I’ll be here in the afternoon, curled up in a corner of a classroom or a couch, with my laptop and a million notes around me.  Maybe it will be the kind of writing day when I feel sluggish and stupid, and have to slog through just to get a few pages down.  But maybe—maybe—it will be one of those rare writing days when I hit that zone and I feel like I’m flying.  I feel amazing.  I feel like I could do this all day. 

Either way, I’ll feel awesome when I’m done. 

See you there!