Jon Hakes. Writer. Official Online Outpost.

I keep a journal.  In fact, I’ve been keeping a journal, continuously, going back to January 1, 2003.  One thousand words a day, every day, from then until today (already wrote today’s entry).  The one rule I keep for myself about the journal is that there is absolutely no standard.  If I want to copy down the first thousand names in the phone book (I know these still exist because they keep showing up at my apartment door), that’s fine.  If I want to write the words “Poop Department” five hundred times, that is also fine.  This freedom makes it very easy to write an entry quickly, and I mostly try to write a straightforward thousand words about whatever is on my mind (even when what’s on my mind is nothing particularly interesting).  I think my top time is something like eighteen minutes.

For a long time, if asked how I approach my fiction writing, I would have mumbled something about not having a set way to write, that I was constantly experimenting with long writing sessions, short writing sessions, timed writing sessions, specific word-count writing sessions, early-morning writing sessions, late-night writing sessions, lunch-break writing sessions.  The work itself suffered for a long time, partly because I was frustrated with the unevenness of the quality of my writing as I tried to cobble together a few daily writing sessions (with long breaks in between).  Also, I have had this idea that I should be able to devote an hour (or even multiple hours) every day to writing, and I tend to throw up my hands and say, “Maybe tomorrow…” when I don’t have the kind of time I really want.

I think I may have turned a corner recently.  Instead of obsessing over getting a certain length of time, or a certain word count each day, I’m counting by sessions, and I’m making them very small sessions.  Over the last few weeks, I’ve been putting in a small amount of time on four different projects each day.  The minimal amount of time is fifteen minutes/project.  I call these “burst sessions.”  By committing only to sit down and writing in one short burst, I’m ensuring a writing baseline for the day/week that is manageable (even for my strange brain), and I’m (hopefully) laying the groundwork for a longer average session down the road.

Not every burst session yields something fantastic, but there have been bits and pieces that I like a lot.  And hey, in order to get your brain to try and produce something you like (or even something fantastic), you have to actually sit down and put in the time.  Any time at all.

Ricky Hakes was born six weeks ago today.  His mother and I couldn’t be happier.  I’ve been quasi-out-of-commission on most things that aren’t the day job or taking care of the baby, but I’m slowly starting to put in more effort on all fronts. Hopefully, this will mean good things for my writing goals in the (at this point) New-ish Year.

Looking forward to a lot of good things happening in 2012.

There is a small parking lot in front of the coffee shop we frequent.  It is too small, really, to be of any use if you are going to the coffee shop (or anything other business in the plaza), which is why we usually park in the big lot on the other side of the plaza.

The traffic flow in this tiny, insufficient parking lot is supposed to be one way, and the diagonal spots are all oriented accordingly.

Since the coffee shop sits right by the parking lot exit, patrons sitting by the windows are often treated to the spectacle of people turning off of the major road running adjacent to the coffee shop, and then immediately into the first available access point of the parking lot (i.e. said exit).

At this point, the observer will usually witness the car slow down as they driver simultaneously searches for a open spot and struggles to deal with the subterranean lizard knowledge that actually pulling into this spot will require a turn of an angle somewhat at odds with the physical capabilities of his or her vehicle.  Some of these drivers are, ultimately, undone by the steel-jawed parking trap they have unwittingly stepped in, and flee the parking lot in shame.  Others become stubborn, and strive to make it work.

My question for this latter type of driver is:  Wouldn’t it have been easier to simply spend the extra three seconds to drive down to the parking lot entrance, rather than spending two minutes making a fifty-three-point turn to get yourself properly oriented to pull into a spot?

I’ll freely admit that there are some badly-designed parking lots in this world.  Most lots, however, do have at least some (perhaps subtle) design cues that can aid a thinking primate in successfully maneuvering a horseless carriage without the primate’s brain exploding all over the interior.

I promise to avoid posting self-deprecating messages of great hilarity every time I surface.

Wait, how long since the last post…?