Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Ten Thousand

Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Everyone has those pie in the sky, one day dreams. We call them goals, we call them retirement plans, we call them what I'll do on Mat Leave. I made a ridiculous list of them, and one of them that has been weighing so heavily on me in the last few months is to write ten thousand words of fiction.

I write all the time. You read it here. You might read it there. Maybe you stalk me and read every single press release, media advisory, brochure, annual report, and ad I produce. I don't know how many thousands upon thousands of words I write in a year, but I'm betting it's way up there. But never, ever, ever have I been able to sit down and write ten thousand words of fiction (and no, I don't mean in one sitting, though that would be rad). Papers, reports, whatever, yes - but fiction? I can't bust past a thousand words, no matter what I do.

Yeah. So I set out to write ten thousand words of fiction. And every single bloody time I got started, I wrote and wrote and came up with a clever ending and voila! Seven hundred and eighty words. Nine-fourteen. Twelve hundred and three, once.

Frustrating.

So I decided that this year, I was going to do it. This summer. Now. Summer never really arrived, and I didn't get down to writing as much as I wanted, but I got a good start.

And then, five short minutes ago, I was poking around on my hard drive, checking out old reports and projects I'd done in University.

What ho!

A short story. A piece of detective fiction, actually. Written in 2005. In about three hours over two extra large non-fat hazlenut lattes at the Second Cup on 10th Street and 5th Avenue.

Ten thousand and fourty-six words long.

For years, I've been stumbling. Hitting my head against my desk. Wailing and moaning about OH GOD, I CAN'T. I SIMPLY CANNOT WRITE ANYTHING LONGER THAN A LONG BLOG POST! Woe! My dreams shall never come true!

And I'd done it already.

Damn it. Now what am I going to do with my life's only true, long-lasting ambition? I've got no more solid excuses.

And no. You can't read it. Because I used real-life people I know as the characters and I don't really want to share with you who I killed off. And how. You might get suspicious.

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