Why Do I Bang My Head On The Wall?

As the man used to say: "Because it feels so good when I stop.
So we all know how Metro spent the Labour Day long weekend, right? He was busy churning out a heartbreaking work of staggering genius. Or possibly a work of a heartburned, staggering, genius.

The 3-Day Novel Writing contest is essentially a trial by fire. Yesterday I found myself deeply moved to read on the discussion board the message:

I have one hour to go.
I have failed.

Oddly, that person came back and managed to chop, channel, and finish their book, in the end.

I got thirty-plus pages out on Saturday, then stalled at twenty on Sunday. The average length of a three-day novel is apparently about 100 pages. But I'm one of those miserable people who goes around making things difficult for myself*--more in a minute on this.

Yesterday I pulled out all the stops, stamped my foot to the floor--pick yer metaphor, they're all appropriate. I wrote two pages between roughly 7 and 9 AM. Yet by the end of the day (and the contest), I had managed to write 51 pages in all. Strewth!

Back to making things harder: If I am running (and I sometimes do this for exercise) I will tell myself "Well, just as far as that rock then ..." However on reaching said rock I will tell myself "You've got a bit more in there--sure you have. So just to the bridge, alright?" Or else I'll deliberately lie to myself about how far I've travelled, how much more work there is to do on a project--pretty much anything to make it a pleasant surprise when I actually achieve a goal.

So while the 3-Day Novel Contest demads its submissions double-spaced, I tend to write in "1.5", which I find reads more easily and with less scrolling on the screen.

One of the more pleasing effects is that my 36, 531-or-so words currently occupy 104 pages. Once double-spaced, this should expand by twenty-to-thirty pages, which is even more brag-uppable!

But it makes things a bit weird when I read of someone who's got 20 kilowords down the pipe and 88 pages.

As always though, I find myself wondering who entered and has given up? I'm actually reasonably sure that most of us finish. I mean there's a $50 dollar entry fee, and few people opt to spend their long weekend slogging away at their opus for the wrong reasons, let alone pay for the privilege.

Anyway, I'm glad I did it. And today I'm also glad it's over for another year.


*No, Justin--this doesn't mean you're right. To my other readers--this is a running feud with a friend who is convinced that I make things unnecessarily difficult. This most latterly culminated in a shouting match held on the ramps (the narrow and unsteady ramps I remind you, Justin!) of an automobile transport trailer.
A "transport of rage" if you will.

But I hold no ill-feeling, and to prove it I intend to buy my friend a beer.
Which I will serve him in a ziplock bag.
Shaken, not stirred.