Day Eight: Let's Mix Things Up

One week of writing down, three more to go. In today's picture (on the right), I am holding up one of the writing prompt cards that come with the kit. There is one card per day, some with very practical tips to help you with your writing, while others have inspirational ideas to get you in the writing mood. One of favorite cards thus far, whose advise I am trying to take to heart each day, says the following:

"Writing a novel is like working with clay. You first create a rough shape, then massage that shape into something beautiful, such as an ashtray or a fearsome army of worms. Unlike potters, though, who can simply buy clay at the art supply store, novelists have to pull off the supernatural feat of creating their clay with their minds. It's an amazing accomplishment, really, and it's also why postponing judgment of your work until the end of the first draft is so important."

What this means to me is I need to make a lot of literary clay. Therefore, I am making the executive decision to push my daily word goal up to 2000 words a day. I get the feeling that these four weeks of writing are like blasting my way into a mountain side, fashioning serviceable tunnels, and mining as many words out of my head as I possibly can. After that, when the editing process comes along, I'll be doing some old fashioned river panning, sifting through the dirt, looking for the gems to build around. Ha! Something like that. Today's word counts are:

New Daily Goal: 2000

Daily Word Count: 3062

Surplus/Deficit: +1062

J.W.B.: 3241

Today's excerpt:

"He really needed to try him some of that therapy he kept hearing all about. But this was his therapy, and had been for years, and this big old truck everyone told him he needed to ditch was his very own therapist. They would ride and talk for hours, she’d listen to him sing songs he had no business singing, she’d wait patiently when he did not say anything at all for hours, and to her it was not strange when he would find a conservative preacher on the radio station, hack and scoff at much of what was said, but still leave it on for long periods of time. She did not find it strange that there in that truck was where he most believed in God, where he tried and did talk to God most often. He would not abandon that truck until she abandoned him, and when that happened, though no one would understand, and he would not ask them to, he would miss her. She took him to the good times and to the bad times, and took him through them all."

And a special treat since it's Friday.

Day Seven: The Strangeness of Kinders

So my ladyfriend was in a car wreck this morning, and the first thing I thought was "Good Lord, do I have enough money in my checking account to bail her out of jail?" She might ask me to retract this from the blog sooner than later, but let's just say she's had her fair share of accidents.

I get to the accident sight, and she is very upset. Being in a car wreck, even a fender bender, brings to mind (and body) how big even the tiniest car is, and how huge the biggest ones are. Nevertheless, Nicole nor the other woman were hurt, in fact the other lady seemed quite gregarious. This odd joviality seemed particularly interesting as she leaped into an explanation that the accident was all my girlfriend's fault, then turned to me as if expecting me to scold Nicole and put her in the back seat of the car while I took care of the whole matter.

My 'hmm' did nothing to stem her tide, as she blabbered on about how this never would have happened if they'd planned the expansion of Dekalb county a little more carefully 30 years ago, when all this was farmland, as she told me. 'Quite an argument you've got going there,' I thought as I looked at her bumper, and the stickers there proclaimed her political affiliation: "Coexist", "More Trees, Less Bush," etc. What a quandary, to be chatting it up with someone you would like to have a nice little political conversation with, with whom you could rail against those who say there is no such thing as global warming as you're cooking in the mid-morning sun. Yet you're on your guard from the get go because she wants to convince you that your girlfriend needs to pay for the damage on her car. (In other news, the Supreme Court used the classic case of Brown v. the Board of Education to say that desegregation is a bad thing. Yes, I know it's a little more complicated than that, I'm not looking to turn this into a political blog, but it also frightens me, and makes me want to look into the education system in South Africa.)

Back to the story at hand. I told the woman I'd ride with her to a body shop and get the estimate and pay her that day (unless my bank account disagreed, in which case this went from simple fender bender to possible charges of kidnapping in a Nissan), but she said she'd been had before and her trust wasn't what it used to be. So we waited for the cops to arrive, and once they did, we waited some more while one chatted on his cell phone, and the other looked in our direction, laughed, and crammed his face with 18 Boston cremes. They may not, in fact, have been donuts, but I know of no other substance that cops devour so readily and quickly while on the job. This stereotype, if no other, I will not let die.

Thirty minutes later, after the tension has died between Nicole and I and old free spirit and we're chatting like magpies, and the officer comes back and hands the lady a ticket, saying that since she was turning left out of a private drive, while Nicole was turned left out of a public street, the severity of responsibility was greater for the old lady (Booya, hag!). The best part was after the cop walked away, she pats me on the back, and says, "Sorry guys, I guess it was my fault after all!", for all the world like a kid who cheated at 7-up in grade school and fesses up with a goofy grin and fake apology. The city is full of assholes. On to the words count.

Daily Goal: 1667

Daily Word Count: 2170

Surplus/Deficit: +503

J.W.B.: 2179

I might write again tonight seeing as I didn't even address the prompt on today's card of inspiration. Perhaps I will include a picture of one of these said cards later, as well.

Excerpt:

“No,” he said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, causing her to grimace. “Sorry,” he grinned as he grabbed a tissue. “No, I don’t want it back so I can pour over those pages and relive everything that happened all over again. I might look through it some, but I don’t want to dwell on all of it. Maybe it sounds stupid or crazy, but I simply want my words back. They belong to me, and if the person who found my journal couldn’t get it back to me, then he or she should not be letting other people see those words. It’s not right.”
Looking up at him, she smiled, in the way that always made him smile back, and said, “Then you need to go get it.”
“What?”
“Go look for it,” she repeated, looking directly in his eyes. “But you need to know one thing before you go.”
“What?” he said softly.
“If you find it, and you start to read through it all the time, and you start turning back into the person you were less than a year ago, then I’m either throwing it out, or… or I don’t think we can be together.”
Now her eyes were filling with tears, but she did not blink, nor did she look away from his. “Okay?” she said, voice strained. “You promise?” Tears were now running down her face, flying away in fear of the beauty of those eyes.
“I promise,” he said, pulling her to him, cheek to cheek, and their tears kissed and ran down their faces together, holding hands, smiling with assurance."

Day Six: Day of Dread

I went to the dentist today. For many people, this is indeed a day of dread, but it has never been so for me. Fillings suck, and nothing is quiet as nauseating as smelling your own enamel dust floating into your nose as the dentist drills (drills!) away at your teeth. Nevertheless, for most of my life, I was the one in my family who got the most cavities- I like Skittles- so I was somewhat used to the whole experience.

When I was 20, I went to the dentist, and he said, "Son, you're working on about seven cavities real good. If you don't start flossin' and rinsin' and brushin' better your gonna end up with a mouth full of fillings." I was mortified. Seven cavities at one time? Good God, how far had I fallen? Where was my loin cloth and wooden club?

What did I do to rectify this situation? I'd love to say I started flossing like mad and became an oral hygiene fascist, but in fact, the opposite is true. Thus, the day o' dread. Five years later, and I found myself in the dentist's office this morning for the first time since I got griped out while strewn out on one of those Evil Lazy Boys. To cut to the chase, what happens to seven cavities that never get treated over a span of five years and a couple weeks? Leave your guesses in the comments section, and I'll let you know before all this madness is said and done. On to today's numbers.

Daily Goal: 1667

Today's Word Count: 2279

Surplus/Deficit: +612

J.W.B. account: 1676

The 10,000 word barrier has been breached! An excerpt is certainly in order! (In case you were wondering, I haven't really thought to make the excerpt inserts, well, sequential or anything, so if you have had trouble following along, that's because you weren't really supposed to. But I will consider following such a course of action).

"He stayed and chatted with Jill for a minute after the seminar was over, and thus was rushed to try to make it to Eyedrum before it closed. Once in the area of the gallery, it took him several drive-bys and questioning of kind passer-bys before he found it. Naturally, there was a sliding chain link fence between him and the gravel parking lot. He sat in the short, inclined driveway for a moment, wondering whether he should park the truck across the street and scale the fence (there was no barbwire at the top), or if he should just try and ram the damn thing (he could finally justify never having traded in his gas guzzling V-8).
Nonetheless, he did not have a chance to do either, as a beat up Toyota Corolla, practically painted in bumper stickers, was pulling up to the gate from the other side to exit. Cursing, he put the truck in reverse and backed up into the street, rolling down his window as the gate slowly rumbled open to let this guy out. He stuck his head out the window and shouted “Excuse me!” but before he could get out another word, the man, who looked to be somewhere in his twenties (as most hipsters do) nonchalantly swung his left thumb over his shoulder, as if to say, ‘Sigh, you can go after me, but, like, you better hurry before it closes ‘cause, you know, that could really fuck up your car, man.’ He floored it, skidding on the gravel parking lot as he quickly pulled in, narrowly missing the closing gate."

Day Five: Actually Day Five!

Back on track! I can't wait to fall behind, again... Short and sweet, for I need to go out and grab a beer with, how to you call them? Ah yes, 'people.'

Daily Goal: 1667

Today's (truly today's!) Word Count:1953

Surplus/Deficit: +286

Jim-earl Word Bank Account: 1,064

Let's do another piece, shall we? See you all tomorrow!

“Do you regret it?” she asked, lying next to him on her bed. Her large eyes watching him with concern, worried about how consumed he had been for the past few days with finding this lost journal.
“No,” said with no pause. “It was the right decision. Doesn’t mean that made the decision any easier, not at all, but it was the right thing to do.”
“I think you’re right,” she said, snuggling closer to him. “We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”
“Probably not,” he whispered, running his hands through her hair, staring at the ceiling.

Day Four: Actually Day Five

Say nothing. I am going to get back on target, today! I have written yesterday's word count this morning, I'm going to write today's this afternoon, and hey, maybe I'll get nuts and write tomorrow's too! How would all of you like that? A little overachieving to help you through your day, eh? Don't hold your breath...

Before I list today's numbers, if you haven't been to the movies, lately, let me recommend Paprika, a crazy little Japanimation flick about blurring the boundaries of science and nature, and reality and dreams. It was fantastic, and virtually guarantees to leave your head wonderfully clouded with imagination bursts like you haven't had since you were five. The soundtrack was pretty crazy good, too (on iTunes). To the numbers.

Daily Goal: 1667

Today's (i.e. yesterday's) Word Count: 1715

Surplus/Deficit: +48

J.W.B.: 778

A short excerpt, for today:

“Dude it’s fine, don’t worry about it. You know I like to drive. Something about driving calms me, even when my mind is flying a hundred miles an hour like it has been for the past week. Ever since I was in high school, if shit hits the fan, I could hop in my car and drive, and while it didn’t really solve anything, at least I felt like I was doing something, you know? Sometimes I think that’s my favorite part of traveling, whether it’s driving back home or when I was backpacking around sub-Saharan Africa, I like to be on the move, heading somewhere, going new places. Right now, after a couple of days in one place, I feel like I need to get back on the move.”
“Good thing we are leaving for San Francisco in less that a week then, eh?” Joe asked, excitement barely contained. “This road trip is going to be stupid!”
“Yeah, take our time, get out there whenever we want to. It’s going to be nice to get the hell out of this town for a long time, get away from everything.”
“Get away from her, you mean,” Joe growled.
“Yeah, that too,”

Today's post will be up later today. Unless it's not. But it most likely will be.


This is me holding of the various notebooks that I use to try and keep track of everything. The little gray one in my left hand I carry around with me everywhere, in case inspiration strikes while I'm on the john at the bar or feeding abandoned kittens or something; the one in my right hand I'm filling up with outlines and calenders and character sketches (though right now most of the characters in this book will be based on real people, so there isn't a real big need to flesh them out, yet); the one on the table is my journal, where I claim to put my deepest thoughts and wishes and dreams but I really just talk crap about those of you who aren't doing a good job cheerleading; and the silver one is called a PowerBook, and it's not a book at all, it's a laptop computer. I mostly use if for writing, or to let my lady friend borrow it when she wants to look up 'men you can only dream of being,' whatever that means.

Day Three: Actually Day Four

My favorite teacher in high school, Dr. Bates, was the first teacher I had who ever gave us any practical tips on studying that made sense to me. He taught us how to take notes, how to study those notes, even when and where to study when you got home. Ha! He went so far as to give us handouts that detailed what good study habits were. Ironically, I think that was one of the few handouts, probably the only one he passed out, that I read following his instructions: at my desk, with good lighting, at what was to be my scheduled study time for the rest of the year. Never happened again.

I tell you about all this because I broke one of the cardinal rules of working or studying at home, which is not to work in bed. It doesn't matter how much you read or study in bed, your brain associates that place most readily with sleep (Unless you are a ladies man. In which case, the only thing you should expect is nothing less than 13 or 14.. Oop! Back to the bloggin'). So what did I do, last night? I crawled into bed, wrote about two sentences, and passed the hell out. Well done.

Thus, yesterday's writing, completed today at 5:00 P.M.

Daily Goal: 1667

Today's (actually June 24th's) Word Count: 1967

Surplus/Deficit: +300

J.W.B Account Holdings: 730

No pictures, today. My killer looks haven't changed that much in a day. However, as for an excerpt, why not? For those of you who are interested, I will be taking early orders very soon, a skajillion bucks a pop. The price is only going up from here on out. Think about it.

“Dude, did you email him yet?” he asked, more than a little heat in his voice.
“Who?” Joe asked, rolling down the window as he climbed into the big black truck, lighting a cigarette.
“Al. The guy who found my journal, remember? I was wondering if you-“
“Oh man, I’m sorry, I completely forgot! I’ve been getting ready to go to Spain, and get things in order to go to California when I get back. I’ll do it today, I promise. What is today, anyway?”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“Sorry, it’s just that your truck smelled like the weekend, like good times, you know?”
“You mean like cigarette smoke?”
“Yeah, that was the basis of the smell back then, I guess.”
“You are smoking a cigarette now,” he observed, “That could have something to do with it.”
“That is true,” Joe answered. “I guess that means we only used to smoke on the weekends, huh?”
“I guess,” he said, lighting up his own smoke, taking a draw, and exhaling the blue gray smoke through the open window. “I can’t believe I lost that journal almost three years ago, and now it’s back in my life, again. It’s insane.”

Day Four's allotment will be up later today.

Day Two: Actually Day Three

Alright, it is day three, about eighteen minutes away from day four [42 minutes into day four as I post this], which means that my day three post will also be 24 hours late. If you have met me, my name is Jim, and I am operating absolutely on time.

Excuse lightning round, go! Nicole and I (if I haven't mentioned or if you don't know, Nicole is my lady friend, and will henceforth be referred to as lady friend and/or Nicole. Mayhaps 'girlfriend' from time to time, but she's so much more than that, I don't see this term popping up much), drove to Spartanburg, SC, where my parents live, on Friday night, arriving around 11:30 in the P.M. My friend Sarah was getting married the next day, the 23rd, on Edisto Island. My parents were also going to the ceremony, and we thought that we would ride down with them. Our reasoning on this was three fold:

1) Edisto Island is void of hotels, so we would have had to rent a beach house for the night, and that would have been too expensive for one evening. Even if it wasn't, I didn't call to find out because I am lazy, therefore I did not know the price of a dwelling there;

2) We could have stayed at a hotel off the island, but to have stayed for the whole reception would have resulted in off the hizzy drunkenness, and to drive to a hotel in that condition would not only be unwise, but illegal in most states in the union, South Carolina included.

3) Xavier and Deidra were having a baby shower this afternoon at 3:00 P.M., which we had to attend, because if the next baby is anywhere as cute at the first one, paparazzi will be swarming around their house like seagulls in a Hitchcock nightmare. We had to be there, and we figured if we had a five hour drive in combination with a terrible hangover (see item 2), we would never make it on time.

Put simply, we went with my parents so we wouldn't have to pay for accommodation, wouldn't have to drive so far to the wedding, and wouldn't be late to the baby-on-the-way shin-dig . Of course, we spent eight hours in the car yesterday (Saturday), and arrived at the shower at 5:45 P.M. today; hey we got two out three, and that ain't bad, as Jack Nicholson says in Mars Attacks. Curious: does anyone ever get Jack Nicholson the actor mixed up with Jack Nicklaus the golfer? I'm not sure if I've ever said them in the right context. Ever. More frustrating than you might imagine, I promise. On to business.

Daily Goal: 1667

Today's (actually June 23rd's) Word Count: 1364

Surplus/Deficit: -303

Current J.W.B. account holdings: 430 (I have started an Excel document to help me keep count of my daily word count, surplus/deficit, and J.W.B. account standing. I say with utter assurance that this will be the only spreadsheet that I regularly keep up with for my entire life)

Not great numbers, but I'll make them up. I now go to write day my daily allotment for day three. It's technically day four. I will be posting later tonight.


As you can see to the right, I'm uber excited about pounding out today's (i.e. yesterday's) word count. If you're somewhat lost concerning the days that things are actually being written, i recommend an astrolabe, an abacus, and a compass.

Day One: Unbridled Confidence

Well, that's not completely true. My confidence was somewhat bridled before I started typing today. But not after today's word count!

DAILY GOAL: 1667 (If I write this number of words per day for 30 days, I will have a 50,010 word book. Which is about 4,000 pages. Trust me, it's gonna be War and Peace on lots of roids.

TODAY'S WORD COUNT: 2400

Surplus/Deficit: +733 (!)

Money. I am putting that extra 733 words in the Jim-eral Word Bank. If I fall short any day, I am at liberty to draw from the surplus in the J.W.B. account. Thus, my account standing is:

J.W.B. account: 733

This would probably be a good time to let everyone know that in writing a novel in such a short length of time, I'm not really aiming for pure Sha-ka-speare to flow forth from my fingertips the entire time. This will be as Anne Lamott says, your quintessential 'shitty first draft.' Therefore, I will probably not be posting excerpts from the book every single day. When I feel good about something though, I'll put a bit of it up there. And please, don't ask me what the book is about, because as this point, I'm not really sure myself. Try as I might to suppress such feelings, I can feel an urge to put monsters or time travel in it somewhere.

[Sorry to interrupt! The picture above and to the left shows my work station. The one below and to the right is a face that I hope I won't be making too much over the next 29 days.]

Seeing as this is the first day, however, I feel like I need to put some of what was written. Here goes:

"These things are not supposed to come back. But it did. Like an old friend lost, like an adopted child finding biological parents because it needs to know where it came from, the journal found him. Tattered, torn, no longer pregnant with pain, but with mystery and smears and the words of a person he did not recognize, words profound, and also embarrassingly stupid and naïve. The most important pages missing, on a madman’s porch, exactly where he said it would be: “I’ll leave the journal wrapped up in a plastic, blue, New York Times home delivery bag. I’ll put the bag on a cabinet by the front door, right next to the rusty bombshell.”

If you need help, consult the orange book. Note the progress chart behind my head. Now it's time for me to put a gold star next to today's date. I may not make another post until Sunday, as I'll be traveling to my friend Sarah's wedding tomorrow, but I'll try. Stay tuned.

A Novel in a Month!? Lunacy!

Party peoples in the place to be,

This not only goes out to the very nonexclusive group of people that yesterday I invited to form the tribe known as 'Jim's Novel Cheerleaders.' I suppose it is going out to any individual who has access to Blogger through the World Wide Web. Which I've heard is a large and growing number of folks. So, welcome.

Over the next month, I am asking you to bolster my confidence, to tease me mercilessly when I do not meet a word count, and to seriously question my direction in life. I have started writing my novel today and will be keeping this blog as a sort of progress tool. It will include a daily word count, sections of the book that could pass as readable English, and pictures of the arduous task that is novel writing. Feel free to leave comments (insidiously mean comments will result in dismissal from the realm of Jim Friend Land. Don't make me do that).

This here's the introduction post. I hope you enjoyed it. Today's progress post will follow shortly.