I am in the final stretch of the spring semester. That means I have come through almost 32 weeks of teaching and being ‘on’ only to be provided a month’s respite before I turn to the online showcase to teach again. Despite how it sounds, I’m really looking forward to the summer break. I’m not only happy about the break, but happy about the opportunity to have time to put word to page. Perhaps I can work in a second 1000 wd session a day and even develop time to go back to the words/drafts/etc I am developing to give them another pass.
This is, in part, the flaw of 1000. When the goal is to produce and you set a goal to do that, all you can manage to do is that. Why? Because the feeling of accomplishment is absolutely enough to make the desire go away for the night. I hit my 1k and I feel like I’ve done something. I feel accomplished and fulfilled by that accomplishment. A higher goal, at this point, would be destructive to that zen-state. Eventually I will push for a second session of 500 words, etc. Still having the 1k floor is revolutionary thinking and so healthy to the words.
Now I need to find other manageable goals. 7 minutes of exercise a day? maybe I can manage that. Sometimes a time goal is more effective than a count goal. I tried to do a number goal with pushups, but I added one to the number every day, and the addition pushed me towards surrender.
What I am learning in all this is that I am the arbiter of my own programming, and I truly need to allow myself to reprogram the system. It is going to be painful and difficult but ultimately it is what is needed in order to continue living a healthy — check that. To begin living a healthy lifestyle.
Some Thoughts:
- When typing something that I am rewriting/reading from I type 30 WPM with 75% accuracy. This argues that I am faster making crap up than I am when otherwise applying hand to key. Part of that argument suggests that the average length of these posts ought to be 300 words. This also argues that there are many a night when the words burst right out of me and many a night when the words must be dragged out as though clinging to the sides of my brain for dear life.
- 418.