The Good Patrons of 750 Words

77 cups

I hit a million words today. A million words! Wow. That’s a lot of typing on a lot of days.

Are my words great literature? What a ridiculous question. Are they maybe hack literature? No, they don’t even rise to that level.

So what are they? They’re mine. They are my thoughts, hopes, wishes, fears, all the stuff that rattles around in my head. On some days, the words fly out of my head and through my fingers and onto the screen. Some days, it’s a chore, I’m grinding the words out, and it’s something I just need to get done. On days like that, I’m typing with one eye on the words, and one on the count at the bottom of the screen. Some days, I’m writing for a pretend audience. Some days, most days, it’s only for me.

It’s complicated. No, it’s simple. It’s Zen. It’s not Zen. It’s discipline and chaos. It’s commitment and denial. It’s funny and serious. It’s me and not me. Who I am, and who I’m not, and who I’d rather be.

Yeah, they’re just words.

Thanks to Buster and Kelliane for making a place where I can write a million words.