I spent the weekend dreading the beginning of the writing process, so when I woke up at 9 am this morning, I feared the worst. Still half-asleep, I started taking some inventory of how I felt. Neck? A little sore. Feet? A little cold. Feelings about the imminent writing? A little excited.
I rechecked. Excited? That didn't seem right. I couldn't remember the last time I felt excited about writing. But the blank page was calling me this morning, so I answered.
Two hours and a bunch of bad puns later, I was over 1,000 words in. And I was having fun. Writing wasn't about making my future anymore. It wasn't about thinking of a job somewhere down the road. And somehow, it wasn't even about the word count. It was about writing. That's it.
I let the pressure go and the enjoyment writing used to offer returned to take its place. And as you can see, not only did I meet my goal, I surpassed it.
Now, don't fool yourself. Or at least don't let me fool myself. It's not a good novel. It's fun, and good-spirited, but I won't be winning any awards for this writing anytime soon.
And that's awesome. I don't want to care about writing well. I want to care about writing. That's it. And that's what I did today.
Before I go, since I bet you're curious and we don't need any more dead cats, the completely copyright infringing concept:
Undead Poets Society – A group of boys, inspired by their new English teacher, go off into the woods to read poetry, inadvertently awakening a horde of zombies that threaten to overrun their school.
Let your imagination take that where it wants. I know I am.