Blog Post Two B: Daily Writing Practice (or not)
Somewhere I came across an author giving an interview who said that the key to his prolific work was writing three pages a day. Three pages a day somehow equated to three books a year. That seemed extraordinary to me. It couldn’t possibly be that simple. But the math checks out. I could write three pages a day. I could probably write five without even breaking a sweat. The problem is not coming up with the ideas, but getting them down on paper. (Ironic given my devotion to all things paper)
My normal work day is bookended in Houston traffic. Over the years, it’s become almost a ritual to take one deep breath as I step out into the parking lot, having survived another chapter of automotive chaos – and grade the quality of that breath.
Today smells of greasy mulch and diesel grass clippings – or – Today smells of obnoxiously pink frosting and dried yellow toner.
By the time I trek all the way to the employee entrance the day’s air has normally blossomed into a shot story. (Not a necessarily good story, mind you… but definitely three pages worth)
The scandalous life of the ne’er-do-well landscaper perfectly manicuring the boxwoods while secretly plotting to explode his ex-fiancée with a fertilizer bomb hidden under a geranium. If she knew anything about the language of flowers, she should have seen it coming.
The awkward romance of the perpetually silent analyst and his long-time beloved from accounts payable… Their eyes meet over the stale lunch room donuts. He longs to ask her out for a simple coffee, but his eyes go back to the multi-colored sprinkles. He drowns his frustration in fried sugar and tells himself there’s always the month-end audit.
If there were any good stories from these morning exercises, I can’t remember. The second I make it to my desk and the stack of notebooks there, my attention goes to the burning projects waiting for me. It makes me wonder how many great American novels have been lost, how many epic poems have gone unknown because people were musing as they walk their dogs, go for a bike ride or creep along the Southwest Freeway at one and a half miles per hour.
Here’s hoping everyone can find a couple sheets of college rule and a mechanical pencil whenever inspiration strikes.