Day fifteen. We’re halfway there. I’ll admit when I started this challenge, I didn’t think it’d be that hard. Write and post five hundred words each day for thirty days? I felt like I texted five hundred words about burritos before noon most days, easy. Plus I write almost every morning regardless, so I figured I could just toss a couple paragraphs up online and BAM, thirty days would be up before I knew it. And the Pulitzer goes to…
Just to be safe though, I brainstormed a list of topics to write about in case I got stuck, which I imagined would be around day twenty or twenty-five, but also probably never. This is the exact list I came up with:
Pet Parade — weird
Gay — what’s wrong with us
Dating — ?
This list lives in a separate and untitled note on my computer, which I frequently imagine my loved ones combing through after my tragic and untimely exit. “Man, he sure spent a lot of time writing about burritos,” they’d say, hunting for something of substance but only finding long diatribes on how this week, I’m definitely going to quit coffee.
Without any context, it looks like I started an outline for a very strange indie film where two flawed gay characters meet at a Pet Parade and date? Question mark?
For those of you keeping score, I pretty much burned through this list by the end of the first week. Which left me searching for things to write about each day, my self-imposed deadline weighing on me like I was an Olympic curler; I want each post to be gold, but know deep down no one is actually paying attention because figure skating is on.
I read once that writers listen to what others say, and then write about the silences. I think that’s beautiful and true and exactly what I was going for when I wrote dating dash question mark? (You’re welcome — now excuse me while I stitch that on a pillow and sell it on Etsy.)
I’ve thought frequently about stopping, my brain morphing into that guy down the hall in college constantly trying to convince you to go out before finals. You know what’s easier than writing? Not writing, it says, handing me a margarita. You posted what? Four times? That’s four posts more than most people. You’re doing great! Drink up!
“I mean, how long does it take you?” a friend asked, shortly before telling me how easily they could spit out five hundred words, no problem.
The truth is it takes up most of my day, but I’ve also never been happier. Thinking about writing has always taken up most of my days, the only difference is now I’m forcing myself to share some of it with you. And just like the Olympic curling team, I know no matter how good or bad it is, there is no way you’re going to remember any of it past the next commercial break.