There are people in this world who can’t help but flaunt authority. I have supervised people who were habitually late, so we changed their starting time so that they could have an extra 10 minutes in the mornings. A week later, that person was coming in 10 minutes later than the new start time. It just happened.
I’m not that bad or obvious. I have a hard time keeping a food journal which might be key to my losing the extra weight I need to shed. But most importantly, to me as a writer, I can’t stick to any monthly word goal. I get depressed, I get busy, I get sick. It’s crazy.
My RWA chapter has an April Challenge every year. Every year I sign up and record my own goal. No one is forcing me to write 30,000 words in a month. I make my own goals and I fail. Year after year. The chapter also has monthly goals, where you might win actual cash money if you meet your goal and then have your name drawn. Nope. Haven’t been able to meet those goals for months and months.
I’ve only ever finished National Novel Writing Month once. I think it was a fluke. I got very ill that November, which may have made an impact. I can’t imagine what else caused me to write 50k words that year.
I’m part of a monthly accountability group on Facebook. I keep forgetting to go in and post my progress. Maybe because it’s disappointing to keep writing No Progress. Do not pass Go, do not collect this month’s gold star.
I’ve even got a page on this website where I promised to write my word progress. Have I done that? Not in the last year. Of course, none of my thousands of blog readers have had time to check it out and berate me for it. So I’m safe.
I’m pretty sure if a demon appeared before me and said, “You will have life as you want it, healthy, wealthy, famous, and strong, if you write 500 words every day for the next 30 days,” I’d be like, “What if I write a thousand one day? Can I take the next day off?” The demon would say, “No, has to be 500 new words every day or you will lose your eternal soul.”
I’d think about it because I am tired of all this cold weather we are having. “How about 100 new words every day?”
“Okay, 100 new words for three months.”
“You know what, forget it. I’m not supposed to bargain with you. 500 words, 30 days, or you lose your soul.”
More thinking. “If I manage it, how long will I live the life I have always wanted? I’m pretty old now.”
With a scream of rage, the demon stamps his little pitchfork (I think he gets the shit jobs because of how small his pitchfork is) and disappears in a puff of really bad sulfuric smoke. Oh well, I guess I will have to get that life the old-fashioned way. By writing about it.
Thanks for reading, I’ll be back on Thursday.