Friday DAY 10. Double digits. I had a good day. Three new paragraphs. I finally got out of the cul-de-sac I’ve been idling in for days. Got the car into first and got my characters in a new situation. The other remarkable thing about writing today for me was that I ate twenty Kit Kats the night before. Somehow, I was able to push through the self loathing and recrimination enough to type for thirty minutes. One small step for mankind.

What’s your weekend writing plan?

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DAY 9!!!!!!!!!!!! If you have missed a day or two or three, please come back!!! I can’t do it without you. This is the part where a butterfly does something in New England and there’s a tsunami in Japan. It’s where you overeat for three days and expect the scale to go down. It’s about cutting off your hair and becoming Keith Richards, or spending an entire paycheck on a pair of Pradas you can’t even walk in. It’s about exquisite belief, magical thinking, and a small knock at the door. I’m telling you this because I need to hear it myself: keep fucking writing.

Describe your best writing day.

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You know it’s DAY 8 because the sun is shining, your monitor’s humming, there are Wheat Thins shards in the bottom of the box and your brassiere is snug but not too snug. Yes, bitches, you’re writing. Can you feel the burn? Yes, I had a better day today. Self loathing in abeyance for a bit and a good simile can make my day. Keep going, keep going, keep going.

What’s your poison: fiction, non-fiction, poetry, essay, villanelle, etc.

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DAY 7. If you are reading this it means you have planted your beautiful ass in a chair for thirty minutes for an entire week and committed for three more weeks. Your biceps must be looking fantastic. Your digits sleek. I’ll be honest I had another shit day. Not only did I barely produce a few sentences, I started to doubt the entire enterprise. I tend to go global, so don’t be alarmed. My mother used to say that I was all or nothing. I sort of feel that’s one of the few good things about me. Well, that’s the whole point of this fucking exercise: you get back on the horse the next day and see where the next thirty minutes takes you.

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DAY 6!!!! Full disclosure: I had a shitty thirty at the keyboard. I couldn’t get out of park. I corrected a few typos and wrote two paragraphs that I immediately deleted. I started to wonder what I was doing, insecurity flooded in the form of dry mouth, self flagellation, and lunch planning. The beauty of this money-back guaranteed 30 day program is that we have tomorrow to sit down and see what the fuck.

Good day? Bad day? Spill.

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