I'm working on something, a creative something. Fiction. 1000 words before bed, I told myself. I almost didn't start. I started. I fussed around on the Internet, intermittently pulling up the Notepad* document, tweaking it, adding a little, going back to my favorite distractions.
Damn, I'm an undisciplined writer. When the idea's fresh, I'm too lazy to jot it down. When I have the chance to write, I'm too lazy to do it. When I start, I putz around (and yes, blogging about being unable to write falls under this heading).
At 300 words, I was ready to throw in the towel. I decided to try for more. At 700, I think I can make my self-imposed deadline. (Note to self: another 1000 tomorrow, you no-good slacker, before the ideas go away.)
Fact-checking will be hell, though. Sept. 11 figures prominently. Yeah, for something that's become such a hallmark for the political atmosphere and will definitely go down in the history books, I can't remember much about it--certain details and gut responses, yes. Specific events and the order in which they occur? Not so much. I'm finding timelines on the web, but it's hard to pull out what was known at the time from what's emerged in the intervening 6 years. What I need is something like an archive of news coverage or something. Gah. Can't obsess over that right now; I can always revise once the bare bones are in place.
* - I actually do have word processing software, but for creative stuff, I find it easier to work in a program that doesn't correct my spelling (which is quite strong when I'm not using a Spellcheck crutch) or suggest commonly used words. If it weren't for writer's cramp and the ease of cut/paste, I'd still be writing with pencil and paper. I'm an old-fashioned soul.
Oh? And? 1,041 words. Rock on, me.