Most of the day yesterday was spent running around. I shouldn’t say, “Most of the day,” because I was here at Panera in the morning, then later in the morning I ran up about twenty miles north of here to the Appalachia Trail, snapped a few pictures, drove back to The Burg for lunch, did some shopping, and was back in the hotel about one-thirty. It was quite uneventful, but that’s the way most days are now. I get up, I get down, just like I’m living in a Yes song.
I’d promised I was going to get into some writing, and in time I did. I did it slowly, because I had the TV on to give me a little background noise, and I found myself getting drawn into what was happening. It was easy to get distracted because I was suffering from a stuffy nose and a strange tickle in my throat, which is usually the warning signs that a cold is coming on. That’s some crap I don’t need; it seems like whenever I get back to work, after a couple of weeks on the job I catch a cold. This is why I should be a shut-in and work from home all the time: I don’t pick up strange germs from other people.
So I spent the gathering evening sniff and snorting, getting lots of fluids in my body while I pecked away at my new short story. Yes, I want to emphasize this: it’s a short story, one that I already have worked out in my head, so I know there are five individual scenes to write, though I can’t say how many words are going to be in each scene.
I set the Project Target at five thousand words total, and five hundred words for a daily goal. Hey, easy, right? Nice and easy, I can write the story in ten days at that rate, and it leaves me time to do other things. So I got into full screen mode and started writing–
Slowly, carefully. I didn’t want to get wordy; I didn’t want to get into a lot of things that were going to fill up the story and turn it into another novelette, or worse, novella. Nope, I set my goal: five thousand words. Best stick to it.
The nice thing about Scrivener’s full-screen mode is you can’t bring up your Project Targets every couple of paragraphs to see how you’re doing. You write on the limited interface you’re given, and that keeps you focused. Of course you can flip over to a browser every so often, but I didn’t.
Oh, and the TV was still on, and HBO was playing Les Misérables, and there’s Russel Crowe singing to an unrecognizable Hugh Jackman, and before you know it Anne Hathaway is getting her hair done in a boy cut and I’m trying hard not to think of the opening chapter of American Psycho–“Bum, sixteen; bum, seventeen; bum, eighteen,” and the bus with the poster of Cosette with “Whore” scrawled at the bottom–but after a while I started thinking that someone’s already written fan fiction where Wolverine and Catwoman are running through 18th Century France trying to stop SID 6.7 from killing the king before the revolution–and if SID still looks like The Thin Green Duke. At least Russel’s band’s music wouldn’t be part of the soundtrack . . .
I finally reached the end of the scene, and I went back into normal mode and checked my word count–
Yeah, I thought I’d do five hundred, and I did just a little over a thousand. Knowing I have four more scenes to write, that’ll put me between five and six thousand words for the story, which isn’t bad. And that will keep it under seventy-five hundred words, which means my story could end up being eligible for a Hugo short story award.
Now there’s some science fiction for you.