Job-searching yesterday, so I was MIA from the computer. Written Wyrdd said she writes drafts and posts them over time. I started a draft (not done yet), but I like the idea. For some reason my mind seems to think it's strange, writing an article/essay/blog post not intending to use it right away. Because I'm the same way when I consider writing articles to submit to magazines or websites and the like. Give me a topic and a deadline and I'm good. Write it up and post it immediately (to the point of bypassing a Word doc.) and I'm good. Give me the option to write it up and then wait before seeing it in print/in use, and my mind balks a little.
Very much the "Buh wha--?" reaction.
My brain doesn't always get why the rest of me does something.
It is the second January in 2007. Just shy of the two week point.
Sooo...writing stuff. In a couple of online journals, I've come across writers keeping track (perhaps as a resolution, perhaps 'just because') of their new page count, total page count, new word count for the day, total word count, and details like that. As messy as I am, and a bit of a 'write by the seat of my pants' (another disliked, but now engrained phrase) kinda gal, I like lists. Actually, I love lists. I love little objects and filing systems that can keep me organized. My dad brought me some stiff pale green manilla folder-like folders and I love them, because they're sturdy enough to write on and have plenty of space (I can fit my whole manuscript in one).
Point being, this appeals to me. Usually, when I am writing (still on break right now) I will note the word count of new stuff for that day ~somewhere~, occasionally adding those other details about what the total is for the whole thing. So I may try to note all that in a systematic way (with bold subtitles and all, how keen is that?).
Yes, I know I'm dork. I have a black leather wrist cuff that says so, literally. I'm happily resigned to it (actually, I think I'm happiest when the writing is flowing or I'm giving in to my dorkitude).
At the tailend of my job-searching adventure, I swung by my neighborhood Wal-Mart and scavenged through the scraps of fabrics. Some of those are not tiny scraps at all. I picked up a green leaf print, a pale pale blue, a dark brown with aquamarine dots (small and spaced pretty wide apart so it wasn't too much) and a black fabric with leprechaun and luck symbols (four-leaf clovers, a pipe, horse shoes, etc.). Have no idea what I'll do with any of them, but I just couldn't pass them up. Then I went to the library and got far too many books, most of them research for the writing, that I had to drag home, walking.
Also, my mother is baking brownies. We now have warm gooey brownies and a frosted carrot cake available. The smell is intoxicating.