It’s been two months, since I first had the crazy idea of attempting to write something new, every day, for a year. Sixty days. Sixty stories. Sixty different topics. Six hundred and twenty-one tags. Forty-four thousand, seven hundred nineteen words.
And sixty grande Pike’s to keep me going.
Damn! That’s half a novel’s worth of work. That’s one mother load of a blog. And I’m not even close to being done. Done in, occasionally. But not done. I’ve written on more subjects I could ever have imagined, from aging to atoning. From beauty to books. The Caribbean to cycles. Distractions. Entertainment. And fantasies.
On googling. Health and history. From ignorance to intentions. Joy and love. From mischief to music and naturopathy. Politics and prejudice. Refining to rituals. Satisfaction to symbols. Technology to travelling. Volunteering. Weekends. And even words.
I’ve talked about myself, my family, colleagues, pets and some of the men who’ve passed through my life. My heroes and mentors. Friends and foes. Likes and dislikes. Expectations. Experiences. Disappointments. Joy and sorrow. The good, the bad and the ugly. Pleasant memories, and those I’d rather forget.
Who knew I had so much to say. Who knew I was interested in all theses different things. Who knew I was this curious. About so much. Which is one of the aspects I like most about this whole experience: I’m learning as I go. I’m learning about all kinds of stuff I didn’t know much, if anything, about until I started to write about them. And research them. And I hope you are, too. And I hope you’re finding it interesting.
Some days I have several ideas; and I write them all up, saving them and putting them away for another day, like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter. Other days I wake up and say “Yikes! What the hell am I going to write about, today.” And then, like magic, I pull an idea out of a hat. And the next thing I know, I’m in front of my laptop.
It was summer when I began, and now it’s late Fall. Winter’s not far off and I’ll still be blogging when April showers bring May flowers. And when summer comes around, again. When I think of it that way, it’s daunting. But when an idea I like just pops into my head in the morning, often before I’m even out of bed, I can’t wait to get started. I get excited, and can’t wait to see how the story unfolds, where it ends up taking me, and you. And then I can’t wait to get started on the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that.
This is a really great exercise, because I’m writing on demand. I haven’t got all kinds of time to mull things over. To second guess myself. To angst. I have to get on with it. And even though I’ve spent most of my career as an ad agency copywriter/creative director, writing every day, under impossibly tight timelines, it’s not the same as this. This takes much more discipline. And that’s good for me. Good for all writers.
My ‘voice’ is changing, and I like where it’s going. I’m sure it has a lot to do with the frequency with which I’m writing. It’s making me take a fresh look at the book I’m working on; and although the revisions I’m now thinking about mean a lot more work for me, I know it will be well worth the effort. And it’s all because of Three Hundred Sixty-Five. So I’m a very happy camper. Umm, make that blogger.
Your comments on my posts make me happy, as well. So thank you for reading, following and taking the time to share your thoughts. The WordPress community is an important part of the experience, and I love reading your blogs, too.
So here we are. Sixty days and counting. Two months down, ten to go. Talk to you again, tomorrow.