If you want to be good at anything, you have to be dedicated. Do it day in and day out. It has to go beyond simple discipline, but it should be something less than mania. In between these poles is where you find the term love of the game. That's the way I feel about writing. And if you think all this is leading up to my telling you I didn't do any writing today, you're wrong.
I wrote 3.5 very nice pages.
But before I got around to that I felt like being a regular guy and did some Saturday morning summer chores just like most other people around the country. My wife and I took my father's dog for a walk in the park. Dad just turned 90 and though he can still push his lawn mower or snow blower around for an hour, he leaves the dog-walking to us. After that, I mowed the grass, front, back and side. Then I had a talk with my daughter who recently received notice that she's made the dean's list again, after receiving the 1,000th straight 'A' of her academic career, and I told her this was a pretty good sign she should be self-confident.
Then I got down to writing, and it went like silk. Today's scene was revelatory. Two of the antagonists, brilliant though they are, learn that their every move has been observed. More than that, they may be about to receive a big job offer. This is the kind of twist I love in a story. It was unexpected, but it makes sense, and it can thwart a criticism of the story that might have been made before the scene happened.
I might have written more pages, but I pitched in to help get some laundry done.
Day 74 of writing my new novel is done.
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