ROW80 Week 3: On Course

(Other ROW80 participants)

Despite some ups and downs along the way, this week came out pretty much as planned.

I didn’t make the same pace on my short story, but I still got a respectable 12 pages done. With a bit of poetry, that filled out my writing days for this week.

This story’s been an interesting experience. It ties into a lot of stuff I usually avoid thinking about — which isn’t a problem when I’m at peace, but it makes stress cut a bit deeper than usual.

All in all, though, it seems to be a positive thing. And since this is the love story I set a goal for at the beginning of the year, I can’t afford to turn aside too easily.

Good luck and happy writing!

ROW80 Week 1: Plans

(Other ROW80 participants)

My main goal this week was to write a plan for my Mary-Sue research project, which I did. (See my other blog — I’ll post further updates on this there.)

However, I was so focussed on that I didn’t spend any time on creative writing (my second goal).

The research project won’t properly kick off until mid-August, so I’m increasing my creative writing goal to five days a week for the time being.

Good luck and happy writing!

ROW80 Round Three Goals

(other ROW80 participants)

I’m starting Round 3 of A Round of Words in 80 Days with these goals:

  • Write creatively (not editing, not blog posts) at least one day a week.
  • This week: draft a research plan for a hobby project I’m considering (I want to measure the effects of “Mary Sue” characters, and doing it scientifically means I have to declare a plan in advance.)
  • Subsequent weeks: finalise the research plan, and start collecting data.
  • Review these goals at the beginning of August.

Having a straight writing goal was getting a bit boring and frustrating, so I want to try shifting focus for a while.

Good luck and happy writing!

To an Empty Biscuit Tin

I don’t know what suggested you to me.
You were a ship, with pennants hoisted high,
And I, a droplet drifting in the sea.
I let you lead me. Now I wonder why.

In those lost days, you did not seem remote.
“This ship,” I said, “respects the little waves —
Rolls with their motion, like a lesser boat.”
But now it seems you saw us all as slaves.

The sea, I learn, is not allowed to choose
Which way the liner steams, but in its wake
Is caught, to follow as its captain deems.
My only choice: which tyrant’s path to take.

Some ships sink, when the sea leaves them alone.
You left the sea. Your fate now is your own.

Written before I knew the outcome of the election.