Expectation: Your alarm buzzes and you startle awake,
squinting at the time. It is 6:30 am and throwing off the warm covers, you step
out of bed. You brush your teeth and settle down at your desk with a hot cup of
coffee. It is now 6:45, and you’re making good time. You open the word doc,
using your other hand to flip through your notebook which contains your neatly
outlined plot. You trace your finger through the chapter names, stopping at the
last one, she finds the sword. You study it for a few minutes and then
get to typing, pausing every few seconds, trying to think of a good word to
use. Before long, your word count shows 600 words. You read through what you’ve
written, checking the flow of the scenes and smile to yourself when you realise
that you’re pretty satisfied with it. Maybe its not the best but it is good for
a first draft. You close the word doc and turn your attention to the notebook. Uncapping
the pen you find in your bottom desk drawer; you tick the tenth chapter name. You’re
almost halfway through your novel and you’re happy. You scribble down some
additional notes for the next chapter and close the notebook. It is time to get
dressed for college.
Reality: Your alarm buzzes, rudely interrupting the
amazing dream you were having. You grab for your phone and turn it off,
burrowing back into the safe haven provided by your blanket. Sure, you’d
promised yourself that you would wake up early and get some writing done but
you hadn’t taken into account how dark it would still be outside and how hard
it would be to leave your bed. And come on, as a teenager you really do need
your sleep. The next time you wake up, sunlight is streaming through your
windows and its really too hot to remain under your blanket for even a second
more, so you get out of bed. The feelings of guilt over sacrificing your
writing time for sleep quickly disappear once you look at the time. Its 8:30 and
you’re going to have to get ready a lot faster if you want to make it for the
first lecture.
Once you’re back, the only thing you want to do is
collapse on your bed. Yes, you made the choice to go to a college with
inconsistent timings, but you’re still allowed to complain about it, especially
when you feel like you’re being burnt to a crisp every time you step out. It is
10:30 pm and you finally remember the writing you were supposed to do. You could
do that, or you could watch the last two episodes of Community and since you
have the impulse control of a 12-year-old, option two is what you go with. Its now
11:30 and the word doc is open and has been open for the last seven minutes. You
have no idea where the story is going, you don’t know what the genre is and you
haven’t even decided on a proper name for your main character, but the
important thing is that you write, right? 200 words later, you have an answer
or at least the beginnings of an answer. Yes, a week ago, you wrote a thousand
words in less than an hour and today writing 200 words has sucked most of the
creative energy out of you but that’s okay. You’re sure ‘I don’t know her name yet
but I’ll figure it out’ is going to have lots of adventures.
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