I’m grateful that someone told me to write a thousand words a day. That this was the best way to become a writer.
Someone somewhere taught me that if I wanted to be a writer, I needed to write. (It was probably Natalie Goldberg in Wild Mind.) That creativity wasn’t magic, it was a job. An ass in the chair sort of job.
Not a “wait for the inspiration to arrive” sort of job, but sitting in the chair, writing.
Today for example. I’m still foggy from my second COVID vaccine, tired from a week of company in the house (but oh so grateful for those little grandsons climbing into bed with me every morning for a snuggle), weary from a month of balls-to-the-wall fund raising/promotion for the Cancer Foundation’s Sweetheart Auction.
I’d really like to drink a cup of coffee and climb back in bed with a book.
But I can’t. Because I’m a writer, and writers write.
When my kids were little, I was determined to get in my thousand words a day. The only instruction about life that I was certain I could handle was this: Consistency wins. Even if something felt daunting, I knew that if I could do it over and over enough times in a row, I might get better at it.
Like waking up and reaching for my journal and writing a thousand words.
I didn’t do it every day. There was a time when I was a single mom with a seven-month-old and a ten- year-old. There was another time, a few years later, when I first started doing contract paralegal work. Even though going freelance as a single mom was scary, I knew it was the answer that would give me time to finish my degree. I worked for the lawyers billing eight to ten hours a day, waking at 4 a.m. to get the legal documents out of the way, and then I went to school at UNM.
In the middle of all the reading and papers I wrote for my professors, the pleadings and briefs I wrote for the attorneys, my gift to myself was when I wrote a thousand words on the days when my brain got too full of everything else, which was almost every day. At least four days a week.
It’s true that consistency wins. Even when what I spit out onto paper was mostly drivel (which is still almost every day). When the content I created was so awful that I’d never share it with the world., there was the ongoing practice of taking the words in my head and putting them somewhere they could be examined. Each day there might (might!) be twelve words worth retrieving.
If you want to write, write.
If a thousand words a day sounds like too much, try 645. That’s how many are in this blog post.
My best suggestion is that when you choose what you want to do and the goal you want to reach, you do it as often as you can. Every day if possible. Even when your brain is foggy. Even if you think you’re no good at it.
Michael Jordan said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” If you’re not out there shooting, you’ll never learn to sink a free throw. (By the way, if you’re looking for inspiration, check out The Last Dance, Michael Jordan’s video biography.)
If you want to write, write. If you want to be a runner (one of my dreams, but I want it without the heavy breathing and the shin splits), run.
I can guarantee you that just by sitting down and writing this, my brain is clearer than it was when I began.
I’d love to hear what your daily consistent practice is. This is a space for sharing what works best for all of us, not just me.
I’m grateful for you. Thanks for showing up.