Katoomba up in the Blue Mountains. Three days of more or less remote hiking, three days of short day hikes and touristing. A brief haven period before our final group dinner and I get a leave pass to True To The Bean, a lovely “espresso and waffle” cafe. Sorting out my “stuff” on tablet and online takes a little while but now I get an hour to write. Golden!
Marina Benjamin writes, in her memoir “Insomnia,” that sleeplessness can be regarded as a blessing. I endorse her elegant view:
This is what I wish to effect in my own life, the better to discern the flicks and flecks of pink so casually strewn across my fields of vision and experience. I want to flip disruption and affliction into opportunity, and puncture the darkness with stabs of light.
I haven’t reported for a while for the simple reason that it’s been a tough period, which by now has amounted to 32 days. Remember the goal is 6½ hours of writing work a day, making due allowance for downtime. Well, I had 9 days off during this period, and the overall average achieved was 5½ daily hours. But the disappointing aspect was that I only spent 2 hours/day on the only thing that really counts: drafting words. I’ve been swamped by book production and marketing strategy and setup.
I can’t do much about the future. I’ll do better and report more often.
I wrote for a few years at Bar Ristretto and lapped up the creativity there, even nestled on the main counter! Then it vanished.
What startles me is how much genuine joy I get out of minuscule word/phrase education. In a podcast, I heard a wonderful writer pronounce “segue” as “seeg.” Surely that’s wrong, I thought, so I looked it up, betting on the pronunciation I’ve been using ever since when, namely “segway,” like the powered two-wheeled “personal transporter.” Yes, “segway” is the go, but you can also use “saygway.” Who would have thought?
I’m in a shambles. Working desperately hard does not, repeat, does not mean I’m getting in the hours, each and every day, to which I’m committed. Nor are the hours always the work I need to do. I can’t decide whether to draft or produce the next mystery (launching in April) or improve marketing or try new projects. Aaaaaaaaaaaah!
I’ve worked just over 6 hours a day over the 73 days. That’s close to the year end target, but I should be up at 8 hours/day to allow for upcoming holidays, breaks, whatevers. And real writing, that is, writing on the nuclear history book, is only about 3 hours/day, well short of what this Big Year wants.
I’ll try and collect my thoughts over the next day or so, and then reorient.
I’d love to be immersed in 1957, writing up German post-war reactor efforts, but today is urgent editing of Gentle & Tusk #2. I’m always surprised by how long it takes to process editing input – in this case from a hired copyeditor and six “beta readers” – and how unenjoyable the task is. But it must be done. And soonest!
Another 14 days and much the same story, tracking at 6 hours a day, not the minimum of 6½, definitely not the preferred 8 hours a day to compensate for non-working days. I have to say it’s a tough issue, squeezing out the hours. Grandparenting duties have begun and they’re so joyous it makes no sense to resist them. Friends needed help. The sun shone and I’m trying to get back my running mojo. Red wine… well, what can I say?
I’m still on the case, however, and the next week should see me alight with purpose. I’m aiming to report back on progress more often, in more detail, to really hammer out what it takes to meet this onerous Big Year’s strictures.