20150430

What Women Want-we don't know ourselves For three or four months out of the year, the size of a buck cannot be measured. As they shed their antlers, they roam wild, free to shapeshift as they please. More here later. I hope. ;) Yawn, and wait for the life to refill your sleeping form. Beauty resumes its course across your face, fresh (hopefully) air fills your lungs, and...(interruptions erupt)

20150429

There is nothing to write about and there is everything. There are tears in another girl's eyes that I have cried before, yet they are uniquely hers. I'm on another precipice (When am I not? When am I on that solid ground that I built with God in a faith and identity unshakeable, where I can reach others through a strength fully my own yet given to me by Someone stronger than everything in the world that falls apart.)

20150422

(First 99 words censored for privacy, but I promise I did write them--the following would be too much effort if I just pretended:

 

(I cannot promise that I didn't just type 99 completely random words to take up space and make up this story, but what writing isn't 100 random words organized over a quality gradient? If you're that concerned about it, thank you! (But you'll never pry those words out of my head, even with a truth serum!) See? Completely random.))

Oh. My 100th word is “Oh.” I did notice the 99th word, somewhat auspicious in itself, but did not attempt to choose something like “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” to supersede it. The mere fact that I have stopped to point this out takes something mildly funny and ironic and deflates the joke. Of course, I could have left it as “my,” just about as promising as “oh.”

That’s 163. (Well, that was 163, but if I keep typing...oh, you get the idea. The idea is gotten?)

What else to talk about? Having friends in high places...writing your own writing prompts? Why isn’t that a fragment? Especially when “It sort of rhymes” is. What about the question of questions and questioning? Is it too old? Is it still relevant? Does it still cause problems? It seems to cause an unnecessary verbosity. The program let me keep that word without so much as a red squiggle.

Here we are at another precipice. A third of the way to the end and what word do I choose? “Here.” Perhaps the more important word, but just as innocuous, is “we.” Well, that one might have a little more power to move, especially as it involves the egos of the “more than one.” (Or the royal.) (Yes, I use too many parentheses.)

The 251st word as important rather than, or perhaps with, the 250th reflects the embarkation (Yes! That’s also a word!) on the second third of the goal of 750 words (seeing that I am an overachiever who must always give that little extra, as in running a 6 minute jog when 5 is assigned (which can be problematic in its own right, especially if brevity and efficiency are the order of the day)).

If I were to break down the actual requirement of 720, we would be no better off with “me,” that self-centered, often highly-boring word based in the universe of a single individual with perhaps no more to offer than spending their bi-monthly Friday night paycheck drinking beer and falling asleep to the fishing channel in their Goodwill-acquired easy chair (such a state not necessarily being viewed as negative by the author).

Then there is the 500th word, which considered in the light of 720 words seems less important that the 480th that marks the (my favorite “word of note”) halfway point of accomplishment. In the land where efforts are marked by some silly sense of “going the extra mile (or minute, as it is in this case),” perhaps the word “silly” might be attributed some special meaning, however appropriately ironic. In this story, let’s just ignore it.

Or how about having a nifty milestone fall on the actual number being stated in the passing of the story? Since I have gone way too overboard on the subject as is, let’s ignore that, too, and see if we can find a different rather monotonous subject to contemplate.

Oh, no! I can’t think of any more to say. It appears that unlike the life of purpose described above as working for a living and then enjoying it in an even more productive way as finding rest on the 7th day, I cannot think of a single subject other than the number of words I face. Being a writer, that precarious state doubles my sin, since no one wants to hear a poet with flowery words but no substance.

Even those poets who use words in a beautiful way without saying anything at all have an advantage since they are able to find a way to disguise their emptiness around an imperceptible inner structure. As for me, I am doomed to talk about absolutely nothing in a gaudy, inelegant way, all to achieve the goal of puffing up my word count (okay, so puffing isn’t entirely without its virtues, but I had to work really hard not to type antidisestablishmentarianism or something equally as showy and irrelevant (as authors are wont to do) and somehow make it fit.)

I could have stopped at showy, bringing myself up short, but irrelevant in this case is just too perfect to resist. Also, if you want to type beyond your 720 adrenaline-inspiring words, how do you count them? I know from experience you don’t get rollover. That would defeat the purpose.

And how do you stop? Morning pages certainly cannot produce the kind of writing that will help you afford the power to keep typing or the light to keep from going blind after a few days of dedication, so should you stop mid-sentence at 720 or the mind-numbing 750 (considering that it will likely be not often that you end your sentence precisely on that round number that would bring you so much peace) so that you can begin your slave, er, paid quota for the day?

Please reassure me that you will keep going, that you will pay homage to the 1000 words that aided you in giving that little bit of mental extra into the writing with which you paper your walls in melted gold (of course that’s not real...I’m a WRITER!) by typing the two extra words that will maintain the properly worded, edited, and structured sentences that comprise all of your writing. Right? Right. Have a nice day. “And may [(975, since I won’t reach 1000 today)] the [(983? Seriously?)] odds be ever in your

(Okay, I can’t do it...1000, here I come.... You cannot bracket words the original author never intended to say! That’s false advertisement!)

Now, that’s perfect.

P.S. (In case you missed it, “cannot” at 1000 and exactly 1,015 words without searching for a way to end. These don’t count because I wrote “P.S.” first. :D (And according to Word, “isn’t it grand,” an emoticon is my 1044th. Beat that, Julia Cameron! (just kidding)) (And I wouldn’t even have had to get out of the bed to check whether it was Julia or Julie if it weren’t for my 36-year-old eyes.)

P.P.S Copied 990 uncensored words for the win. Underachiever.

P.P.P.S EDIT: This is why we don't write in the morning. And it's a good thing my actual goal is the NaNoWriMo 1,667. Oh, wait....