Running the Clock

According to this website I missed a day of writing. According to reality I did not. I do not know why it starts one day before it ends or why it keeps it on a previous day for a little too long. Writing at 7:00 PM during our vacation somehow tripped this thing up and causes it to say I missed a day. It is no problem because I know I didn’t.

Here I am again not wanting to lose my streak. I’d like to get the streak to 365 so I can say I wrote every day for an entire year. I don’t know if it will get me anything. My creativity hasn’t increased. I haven’t even opened my writing project since I started. The book of poems that were all about the same fictional small town. I think the problem is I can’t imagine enough things that exist in a small town to fill a book of poems. I’m sure other people could, but I am not other people and not sure I can.

I could maybe do some exercises on that. The only rule I sat for myself was to write for ten minutes which is much harder and a much longer amount of time than people realizing. Ten minutes doesn’t sound like a large percentage of the day, because it isn’t, nor does it sound like enough time to get anything accomplished. I have been surprised by how much I can write in ten minutes. I am only half way to that point now.

This is going to get harder as time runs out. I want it to run out. I want to go to bed. I want to be asleep. This was a night I came so close to skipping this exercise. I am tired. This day was long and the rest of the week has more in store for me. I missed a red flag with a client. They disguised it well. I shouldn’t have taken on the job. It was the standard run away scenario. The you’re the only one that can help me where others have failed client.

That’s all well and good but I need to spend some of my day thinking of a fictional small town. The residents of the small town could and probably should be the subject matter. But who is there? Who is there in any small town? The newly arrived, the family that goes back generations, the in-betweeners who feel like they’ve been there a long time but most everyone else with their last name is in a different small town in a different part of the country. I think we’re getting somewhere. I should write that down.

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