DAY 25 Sorry I didn’t get this out last night. But I did get my thirty in earlier in the day. I was mostly layering in cement to hold the bricks together. I hate it when writers say they find out more about their characters as if the characters are real and reveal their secrets. The writer is the puppeteer. Maybe you find out more about yourself as in you didn’t realize you had those strings to pull. Anyway, it turns out my main character is a bit of an asshole. Love it.

Describe your main character in three words.

p.s. Five more days till the mountaintop.

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DAY 24 DAY 24 DAY 24 DAY 24 DAY 24 DAY 24 Motherfuckers!!!! I know what you’re thinking, what happens after the thirty days? I’m going to lash myself to the my desk chair and immerse my feet in a tub of oil. I’m going to start wearing make-up and high heels. I am going to get a bone density test and new bras. At the end of these thirty days, I am going to double down because for the last four years I have co-written other people’s books but this feels like something tiny and enormous and I don’t feel like stopping.

You tell me. What’s going to happen?

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Day 23 meh. Are we starting to see a pattern here? Writing every day really gives you the chance to see the good days for what they are and the bad days for what they are. It doesn’t matter. The days don’t care about you. Just keep pushing through. We have seven days left. You can do this.

Good day? Bad day?

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Day 22. I wrote for an hour today. I lost track of time I shit you not. I want to say that when I proposed 30/30, I had no idea if it was a good idea, if I could even do it, etc. I jumpstarted a piece I started last summer. I’ve written on average 2 pages a day. The consistency has been incredibly valuable, but it’s realizing that I can fit 30 minutes in any time any where. I don’t have to be all precious about my pre-dawn quiet. I can eat them here or there, I can eat them anywhere!

When are you writing?

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Day 21 limping along to be honest. Mostly played footsie with early pages. fixing typos, laying in descriptions. It’s all part of the same flag. There are just some days when all you can do is move the pawn back and forth on the board.

Is anyone out there still writing? I feel you slipping away.

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Today, Day 20, and we are in the final third of this thirty day challenge. I know some people are cooking. Some are dropping in and out. Others have said fuck it. Wherever you are, if you’re still checking in, start tomorrow. Just see what you can do in ten days, thirty minutes a day. I have been shocked to see the pages accrue with just thirty minutes of work.

This morning, this quote jumped out at me in today’s paper from the writer Hanif Abdurraqib, “I’m not in a band. I didn’t get to be a pro athlete. In the end, I stumbled upon something that I didn’t know was a dream.” Tell me about it. I didn’t get to be a psychoanalyst. I didn’t get to run Paramount.

What didn’t you do?

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When I was nineteen, I was a sophomore at NYU. I had gotten kicked out of film school and took my refuge in the school of arts & sciences where I entered the leagues of lost English majors. I know I lived in a dorm, but I can’t remember any of my roommates. I can remember my favorite bench in Washington Square Park where I spent hours smoking cigarettes and reading and people watching. New York is was and always will the great parade of humanity and I its humble bystander. When I was nineteen, I hadn’t yet fallen in love, I hadn’t found a friend to share my writing with. Much of what I did was secretive: secret eating, secret writing, secret crushes, secret depressive episodes.

Friends, it’s Day 19 and I’m still typing.

What were you like when you were 19?

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Day 18. If you’ve fallen off a few days it’s not a big deal. This isn’t AA where you have to start all over on Day 1 if you “slipped.” If you’re here and you’re trying to write and you’re struggling, you’re in the right place. The beauty is you just need to find 30 minutes. Not a day, not a half day, not a room of your own, not a silent car, all you need is thirty minutes. I have to tell you, I had no idea when I floated this idea what would happen. For me, it’s been completely liberating. Every day, I can find thirty minutes and my project likes the attention.

Please weigh in and let us know how you’re doing.

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It’s Friday! Day Seventeen of the Thirty day writing challenge! Do you know where your children are? Today I had fun writing. Yes, I actually had fun. Me, Betsy Lerner, Queen of darkness, actually enjoyed the tapping. I shall prepare for a crushing experience tomorrow. But for right now, I’m cracking open a can of diet ginger ale and kicking back for some Netflix marriage. Guys! Guys! I can’t believe we’re at Day 17. Day 17!!!

Do you ever think of an audience when you write?

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Day 16. So appreciative of all the comments and insights surrounding our work. You know that one of the things I love about writing is that you do it alone and it’s lonely. I’ve never joined a book club or writers group (even though I am aware that this blog has been home to different writers groups over the years and they all make me completely happy). Still, I discovered writing as a child, and all through my teenage years and adult life, its delicious narcissistic promise of self involvement has never let me down. I don’t just go to write, I go to be alone, to steep, to steal myself away. To enjoy the exquisite pleasure of my own company. So yes, this sweet little community is fucking with my head. I did my dirty thirty.

How about you? Do you need help getting up the hill?

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