It’s time, once again, for a 365K Club update!
Here’s how I did this week:
January 9, Day 9: 689 words
January 10, Day 10: 418 words
January 11, Day 11: 0 words (sadly, this was the day David Bowie died, and I spent all day listening to Bowie songs and crying)
January 12, Day 12: 805 words
January 13, Day 13: 409 words
January 14, Day 14: 526 words (and then Alan Rickman died, also at age 69, also from cancer, so I wrote a journal entry about what this means for me, for my art, and for artists I admire)
January 15, Day 15: 1,128 words
That’s a grand total of 3,975 words for the week!
Not too shabby for a week in which not one but two of my British inspirations died and I spent more time weeping than writing. RIP David Bowie and Alan Rickman.
Now, can everybody please stop dying of cancer at age 69? It’s making me feel my own mortality, and if we’re all to die at 69, then I’ve only got 32 years left to figure out how to be as awesome as David Bowie and Alan Rickman were.
HOLY SHIT, THAT’S DEPRESSING.
Also, David Bowie released his final album, Blackstar, just a few days before he died — on his birthday, in fact — and it’s a love letter and farewell to his fans. If that doesn’t get you bawling, then obviously you have no soul.
Especially when you tune into the local radio station and realize they’re playing three Bowie songs at the top of EVERY HOUR for the ENTIRE WEEKEND.
*sings along, crying*
So, did I beat week 1’s total of 3,971?
You bet your sweet ass I did. Because I’m awesome like that. And there’s no time like the time you’re writing a wrap-up post to bust through your previous week’s milestone!
At one point I actually had a total of 3,791 — which is a transposition of 3,971 — and I worked diligently to whittle down that 180 word difference. In fact, I was writing and rewriting this very paragraph in order to help bump up my word counts for the week. You’re actually reading history in the making right now, as you pore over this very sentence. Is that boggling your mind? Just a little bit? Because it should be. If only because I’m currently writing like the dickens (or, more specifically, like Charles Dickens — who was paid by the word, as a serial novelist back in the 19th century) in order to meet my goal of crushing last week’s total by at least four words.
Four little words.
Four little, puny, measly, teeny, tiny, minuscule, microscopic, largely unimportant words.
I’ll say that again, for the sake of repetition, as well as for the sake of stretching out your sense of anticipation: FOUR LITTLE, PUNY, MEASLY, TEENY, TINY, MINUSCULE, MICROSCOPIC, LARGELY UNIMPORTANT WORDS.
And just like that, BIGGITY-BAM! I had reached my goal.
Goals for next week?
Keep on writing more words, daily, and upping those totals. Do it like a rockstar. Because that’s what David Bowie would do. Hell, that’s what Alan Rickman would do, as the voice of god (aka Metatron) in Kevin Smith’s sacrilegious take on religious issues, Dogma.
I’ve also signed up to participate in Shelley Hitz’s 7-Day Nonfiction Writing Challenge, which is sure to help up my word counts. It’s a free 7-day challenge, in case you’d like to join me. (Join me!)
And please, seriously, stop killing off my favorite people, 2016, or I will be forced to retaliate in a very unsavory fashion.