I had a fabulous three day weekend and it was not because I went shopping, or to the movies, or out on a really good date (and enjoyed the um....physical perks... a really good date entails) which is what I usually do on the weekend. All I did this wonderful three-day weekend in heaven was write.
I went to bed Friday night with the intention of working as much as I could on my WIP and that's exactly what I did. In spades. Saturday morning at 8:00 am I started writing and I couldn't seem to stop. The words flowed out of my head in a constant stream that was never ending. Dialogue was fresh, dead ends conquered, characters sprung to life.
At 2:00 pm I had to force myself to take a break. I was back at it again at 6:00 pm and again I had to force myself to stop at 1:00 in the morning. I was so enjoying myself. I was invigorated. I was loving being a writer.
The same happened on Sunday, and again on Monday, and by the time I laid my head down Monday night I was exhausted, my carpal tunnels were killing me, and I had a neck ache from hunching over the keyboard for so long, but I was extremely happy. I had written three entire chapters totaling almost 15,000 words of usable, well written prose.
For me, the whole experience was nothing short of a miracle. I kept the edit bug at bay, the inner critique was silent, and the story that was beginning to bore me into a catatonic state, was the love of my life once again.
I got up this morning and reluctantly went to my current job crunching numbers (which I hope to soon replace with writing full time), with a renewed spirit and a wide smile on my face that lasted until well past lunch. Damn numbers.
Still, I wish the kind of weekend I just had on every writer out there, and I hope to have many more just like it.
Lainey
I went to bed Friday night with the intention of working as much as I could on my WIP and that's exactly what I did. In spades. Saturday morning at 8:00 am I started writing and I couldn't seem to stop. The words flowed out of my head in a constant stream that was never ending. Dialogue was fresh, dead ends conquered, characters sprung to life.
At 2:00 pm I had to force myself to take a break. I was back at it again at 6:00 pm and again I had to force myself to stop at 1:00 in the morning. I was so enjoying myself. I was invigorated. I was loving being a writer.
The same happened on Sunday, and again on Monday, and by the time I laid my head down Monday night I was exhausted, my carpal tunnels were killing me, and I had a neck ache from hunching over the keyboard for so long, but I was extremely happy. I had written three entire chapters totaling almost 15,000 words of usable, well written prose.
For me, the whole experience was nothing short of a miracle. I kept the edit bug at bay, the inner critique was silent, and the story that was beginning to bore me into a catatonic state, was the love of my life once again.
I got up this morning and reluctantly went to my current job crunching numbers (which I hope to soon replace with writing full time), with a renewed spirit and a wide smile on my face that lasted until well past lunch. Damn numbers.
Still, I wish the kind of weekend I just had on every writer out there, and I hope to have many more just like it.
Lainey
But I camped out with the screen door open, people playing volleyball below, the sounds of the surf floating in, and wrote wrote wrote. My location was right in the thick of where my WIP is set, so that helped even more. Oh, how I loved that weekend! I wish I could do it a lot more often...
