Day 4, Summer 2022 Mini 1000

Good morning, everyone.

Today we’re going to write 1000 words. We’re going to write today, then tomorrow and the next day, and complete whatever we need to complete. We’re on the fourth day of this project, and we will finish it, together. I believe in us.

Today I woke up at 4:30 AM, a little twitch in my back. The twitches of this age. I would not be falling back asleep, I soon realized. I remember reading somewhere that when Camille Dungy can’t sleep, she gets up and writes, and I admire her greatly, so I tried to do the same. I turned on the light. This woke the dog, and he thought it was time for breakfast and I had to pick him up and put him back to bed. He’s old now, 13 or so, and he can’t see or hear too well, but his hunger remains. No appetite problem for that old dog. I’ll be the same someday. Always ready to eat, no matter what.

I realized yesterday I had been writing in four different notebooks these past few months. I didn’t think I was consciously choosing one over the other but this morning I thought: maybe the smaller one fits in my purse so I can take it to the cafe, the spiral bound one feels loose and appropriate for casual notes, and the one with the hardcover one makes me feel steadier and more professional for when I need to feel like a “real writer.” Then there’s one I keep forgetting about and only seem to use when I am having weird feelings. That was the one that I grabbed this morning.

I wrote for a while about my work, about this project. Everything is extremely active with my writing right now, and I am alert about all of it, but I’m balancing a lot. I am full of ideas and I’m trying to track them all even as I maintain a steady forward motion every day. This is what happens when you write something overstuffed, I think. I had cleared my brain and my schedule for this period of time this summer, to devote specifically to this novel, and it’s been working; I have been maintaining focus because my life was clear of so many distractions. A luxury, this time.

But I know that it can’t always be the way. That soon enough something will happen that will throw me off my game. I’m not afraid of right now. Right now is good. I’m afraid of the future, I realized.

I wrote:

“Where will I find the energy to finish this when things are hard or sad or distracting? I just have to remember that I love this thing, and it’s mine, and I made it up from scratch. And if I don’t finish it, no one else will.”

Other early-morning questions I asked: How are you connecting with your work right now? Personally, professionally — they’re different things, but also they intersect sometimes. Do you get a sense of pride from it? Do you know why you’re there, interacting with these characters and ideas and themes? Do you know why you’re showing up on the page?

Then I read this Ada Limon poem, which helped most of all. “I was planting my secret seeds inside you” is how I want to feel every day about my work.

How do you feel about your work this morning?

I hope you feel in love with it. And I hope you write beautifully today.

Jami