1,000 Words of Summer, Day Thirteen


Day Thirteen: Done. 1,063 words.

I’m done early today!

Last night, I found myself poking around on my college alumni directory website and Googling random people I recalled from college. I was surprised at who turned up on Google and who didn’t. An idea began to form, along the lines of some of Maeve Binchy’s works where she tells a story by devoting a chapter to each of the characters. And so this morning I started something—maybe a novella, maybe a short novel—involving a handful of former classmates and an impending reunion.

I could easily worry about how the overarching structure, i.e., classmates at a reunion, has been pretty much done to death, but the truth is that Solomon was probably right:

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.

Ecclesiastes 1:9.

So I’ll take my shot (another phrase that’s been used before). If it works, great. If it doesn’t, maybe parts of it will be useful elsewhere. And if the entire thing turns out to be crap, at least I tried, and that counts for something.

1,000 Words of Summer, Day Twelve


Day Twelve: Done. 1,024 words.

Today, I received three story rejections. Three rejections from three journals, all within about five hours. Three different stories, each one rejected.

Not a great day.

Not the kind of day that makes a person say, “Gee, I feel like writing a thousand words about something.” More like the kind of day where you just want to pour more wine and binge-watch something mindless until sleep claims you.

But I wrote anyway. Even though somebody on Duotrope posted a rejection for a journal where I have a submission pending, and their story went in four days before mine, and I’ve wondered ever since if I’m going to have a fourth rejection before bedtime, I wrote my thousand words.

Best part was that it was an actual substantive addition to my novel. It’s not a complete scene—after all, I need to have somewhere to pick up tomorrow—but it’s not just rambling for the sake of satisfying my word count. It’s interesting, it’s meaty, it has potential to be important to the book. It’s real writing.

Turned out to be a decent day after all.


1,000 Words of Summer, Day Eleven

traffic-stop - artwork on intrinsick

Day Eleven: Done. 1,003 words.

I really didn’t want to write tonight. I’m exhausted and depressed, and the last thing I wanted to do was to focus on creating something. But I had this challenge, and it’s only fourteen days, which isn’t all that much to start with anyway, and this is only the eleventh day which is obviously even less, so I pushed myself to write something because I figured something was better than nothing.

I don’t know if it was or it wasn’t. Maybe it’s like exercise, and sometimes you push yourself to run a mile even when you feel like crap and all you want to do is sit in front of the television and binge-watch Grey’s Anatomy which, for the record, is exactly what I wanted to do except I was never, ever going to be running a mile, except writing 1,000 words felt a lot like running a mile, or at least I assume it does because I don’t run.

So I wrote a ramble which, in case you’re not familiar with rambles, is pretty much like this post except this post is much more organized because it consists of more than one sentence, and the trick with a ramble is to tell an entire story in a single sentence. Tonight’s ramble didn’t really have a plot—in fact, truth be told, it was closer to being a journal entry except I don’t type journal entries, but if I’d done a journal entry in my journal, it would have taken forever because I’d have been doing it by hand and I’d have had to keep stopping to count words instead of just looking at whatever Word said was the length of the document, so typing my ramble was at least faster and lent itself to a greater word count which is how I hit a thousand words at all, and for what it’s worth, this blog post is turning out to be another three hundred and change, which isn’t bad for a ramble although, as I said before, this one isn’t really a ramble since it has several sentences, but it’s not a bad shot at one, so here’s my advice: if you don’t feel like writing and you have to write for some reason, try writing a ramble and see how long you can go on without starting a new sentence because either you’re just going to spew out everything that’s in your brain that’s making you tired and depressed or you’re going to turn a corner and start to have fun with it and either way, there’s no downside (and not for nothing, but I’m now past four hundred words on this blog post, so you see how fast you can get into the habit of continuing to write once you start a ramble).

Oh, and one more thing: sometimes you can even get a ramble published, so that’s another reason to try it, plus if you don’t click on this link, you’ll never know why I used this particular photo today.

1,000 Words of Summer, Day Ten

dignity - recliner

Day Ten: Done. 1,007 words.

Just in under the wire. So exhausted, and I definitely wouldn’t have done a thing if it weren’t for this challenge. Not certain if that’s good or bad.

In any case, it’s done.

1,000 Words of Summer, Day Nine


Day Nine: Done. 1,538 words.

This time, I did a blog post. You’ll see it right before this post. It’s about slow cookers. Not exactly a profound topic, and I don’t know why I wrote it except that I was so thrilled with the notion of coming home from a day of errands to find my dinner ready when I don’t have a spouse, child, or cook to prepare meals for me.

Whatever. I ate, I drank, and I wrote. By any reasonable definition, a satisfying day.

The Slow Cooker is the Greatest Invention in the World

Okay, that’s probably an overstatement. The heart-lung machine, or whatever they call the device that keeps people alive during heart transplants. The airplane, at least before the industry got so ridiculous about cramming people in like sardines, and now is paying for it in spades because social distancing prevents them from doing this. The can opener. The piano. Innumerable vaccines. Ball-point pens. Deodorant. Motor vehicles. Computers. The pump that brings water up from a deep well. Air conditioning.

Fine. The slow cooker, formerly known as the Crock Pot, isn’t the greatest invention. But it’s a damned good one.

Continue reading

1,000 Words of Summer, Day Eight

Image by Anujah Tilj on Pixabay

Day Eight: Done. 1,715 words.

Some days, you just have to write fluff. I mean fluff. Pure escapism, with no particular literary value, and certainly nothing profound. Work that has as its only goal making somebody—maybe the reader, maybe just you as the writer—laugh.

Not brilliant satire, the kind that takes some amazingly talented person hours to create and edit and hone into a fine-bladed wit. Just plain old garden-variety, laugh-while-you-read-it-and-then-forget-all-about-it fluff. All the intellectual nutrition of cotton candy.

Yep. Some days, that’s just exactly what a person needs. Like me, today. I wrote cotton candy. And it was good.

1,000 Words of Summer, Day Seven

Rascal at Protectors of Animals, East Hartford, Connecticut

Day Seven: Done. 1,316 words.

Instead of working on my novel tonight, I wrote a biography for Rascal, a lovely tuxedo cat I met at the shelter on my birthday, just before lockdown. The bio should be up on the Protectors of Animals website and Facebook page within the next few days. If you’re in Connecticut and looking for a dignified kitty companion who will curl up in your lap and purr, providing warmth and comfort in these challenging times, Rascal may be just the guy for you.

I also worked on a blog post. I don’t know if it’ll ever be posted—at the moment, it’s more musing than anything else as I work through the question of what my role is in this challenging time. If I come up with something I think is worth sharing, I’ll post it.

Update as of Friday afternoon: Rascal’s bio is on POA’s Facebook page. No word yet on when their website will be updated.

1,000 Words of Summer, Day Six

Day Six: Done. 1,101 words.

I wonder how much of what I’m writing now will end up being useful. I’m fleshing out a lot about my main character’s childhood, including his first love, his abusive father, and the friend who ended up being his nemesis. No clue how all (or any) of this will fit into the original story line—assuming, of course, that story line even survives.

I have no idea what lies ahead for my characters. Of course, this is also true for all of us here the real world, so I suppose it’s only fair.

1,000 Words of Summer, Day Five

Photo by Mike Labrum on Unsplash

Day Five: Done. 1,160 words.

No more to say today.