Yo. I’ve done it. 20 pages written for two straight days. That’s three out of my four writing days this week, and the one day I didn’t hit my goal, I wrote 15 pages that day. Busy work day.
I. Am. FRIED. Absolutely fried. Crispy. Delirious. Totally zonked. I have a TON of pages to read and catch up on this weekend, but only five pages to write as make-up. Fuckin cake, man. I’ll have hit my 80-page goal for the week easily. Well, not easily, but I did it. I’m wiped, but I have the next three days to not push so hard and to recover. I wish I’d been able to catch up on the reading/editing, but it’s okay. I’ll do that this weekend, and I’m good to go. I can read/edit 80 pages in four hours. Nothing.
Though…now that I think about it, it’s actually 160 pages each week, since I always do a second pass. Still. That’s eight hours over three days. I can swing that, still get some rest.
Speaking of rest; well-earned tonight.
It’s such a hard line to balance on, writing so much like this. The urge to rush is strooonnggg. But I have to resist it. I can’t phone anything in, or it ruins everything for me. I end up disconnected and lost. I have to breathe, take my time, and trust that I have enough hours and enough energy to get the pages done right. Fast overall, sure, but only because I’ve taken the time I actually need to go slowly and live the scene. Make it real. I know what rushing feels like, now, and I know what taking my time feels like. There’s a pocket there to live inside. I’m able to feel when I’m outside of that pocket, and I have to change strategy. Take a break. Do a meditation session. Change up the music or where I’m writing. Go for a walk with the pups. Eat. Take a nap. Whatever it takes to exhale, relax, and come back when I’m ready.
Night night.