October is just the name of the month. What I really want to talk about is what happened in this little chunk of time: 31 days of living. You can do a lot with a whole month. I learned this long ago. You can travel thousands of miles. Or you can write hundreds of pages. But it's hard to do both at the same time. I write as much as I can when I'm out there on the road--and some good stuff often pops up when you're out there in the heat of the moment--but as far as productivity: it's hard to beat a long line of all-day writing days. That's when the really good stuff seems to come.
October was a month for writing and it was also a celebration month. It was one month after I finished my big 100 Days of Writing project. Day 100 happened on September 16. I worked as hard as I could that day and I reached the last sentence of the book that I was writing. That moment was a happy moment to receive in the brilliant solitary quiet of a late night at the end of a marathon writing adventure.
My 100 Days of Writing had been very productive. Now I had all this great writing momentum behind me. I kept writing. I was writing my way into the later half of my third book. Then Jake flew to the East Coast. He arrived on October 1. I picked him up from the airport. He asked me about my 100 Days of Writing while we were driving in the car. And before I knew it, he was recording what I was saying with a video camera. One take. I felt like I got it. But I wondered about my hair. Was it perfect? Probably so, but how would I know without a mirror. No, don't worry about that, just trust Jake, I thought.
Jake had arrived at a great time. We planned a big New York City adventure. It was exactly what we both needed and wanted. There were things to see and write about, and Jake was excited to take photographs. No bikes for us. We walked around Manhattan. We drank beers in McSorley's. There were friends to meet! Slices of pizza to savor! And part of me wished that I was still back in my 100 Days of Writing--so I would be able to write about what Jake and I were up to in the city. And maybe I still will. New York City is a great place to write about in a book. And being the writer, I can do whatever I want. Add some extra innings even after the 100 Days is over. Why not? Or maybe when I look back, it won't really fit. There's different ways to write about moments from the past. It's up to the writer.
What am I talking about here? It's really about the flow. The flow in life, and the flow in writing. It feels good to be so excited about life that you feel like writing about it. I've been alive for many years. And I've been a writer for over five years. Writing, by now, is very natural, just like living. I wake up in the morning and I do it. And maybe I take a break from writing and go to New York City. That's okay. Going to New York City is living, and living is research for writing. That's the thing with writing: it's tied up so closely with living. And why not? The full-time job that you end up working is a big part of your life. It's not your whole life, of course, but it's a good chunk.
And so, today, I'll do what I've been doing, and what I plan on doing for the rest of my life. I will get myself to my writing machine (I'm working on my book on the typewriter right now) and I will write. I will look at where I left off, and then I will continue writing. And I have my mantras. I've written mantras on little yellow pieces of paper that are taped where I can see them on my desk. These words bring me great comfort when I see them and say them: "Tell the story. Go in order." It's very simple and yet it is enough. Tell the story. Okay, I will. What's happening right here? Well, I'm pressing keys that make digital letters appear in a window that Google's engineers have made so that people can write their blogs. And right now, I'm not worried about what I'm going to write next. Because the flow is strong right now. I know where I'm at, right here and right now, and I know where I started. I started--we started--with October and the idea of looking back. And in the looking back, I saw all the writing that was there. And now that I'm writing about writing, there's been a shift (and I'm going to have to go back up and maybe add a subtitle to the title of this particular post).
And now I've jumped down to a new paragraph. Maybe the last one. I'm still not worried at all. If you write with fear in your heart--what good will that do? Readers are smart. Readers can see what's going on. People sense things. Confidence is king when you're laying it down on the page. Move forward with confidence. The typewriter has taught me many things about moving forward and keeping the flow going. The typewriter teaches. The writing days teach. A writer always has something to learn. You never get to the top. You just keep climbing. Steady progression. Look around. Might as well. Let the beauty fill your lungs so that you will balloon up, good and full and inspired, and then you'll be able to see what's going on right now and you'll also be able to see the options that are there when it comes time for forward movement. Tell the story. Go in order. I know this story, the one right now. I know it and I love it, and I will not be afraid to set it free when the time comes. Like I said, writing feels very natural to me, just keep the flow going, tell the story and go in order, tell the story and let it happen. One sentence ends, the next begins. One book ends, start another. Your life becomes your life because you live it. I'm lucky to have a job that brings me so much joy, hour after hour and day after day. Tell the story. Go in order. Okay, there's writing, and then there's joy, and then there is more writing. And then there's love--I've hardly written a word that hasn't come from my great lifelong love of writing. And of course there's the flow. And if you rise up and meet the flow, then the flow will take you where you want to go. The end.
