You know how sometimes you start hearing the same message over and over? Sort of like a motif. A theme emerging, unexpected yet unmistakable. The cosmos is speaking to you.
First a line in a magazine grabs you. Then you tune in to a song lyric. Then a character in a movie brings it up. (Did Daniel Craig just look me directly in the eye?) The message is loud, clear, and especially for you.
This does happen to everyone, right? Please tell me I’m not the only one.
The universe IS sending me messages. And it’s trying to boss me around.
First medium was John Dufresne, who instructed me to write three hours a day. My goal was 500 words, which I can
bust out manage in half an hour. I thought it was a “stretching” goal; now it seems sad.
The second, slightly louder dispatch was telegraphed through a dude on Sunday who isn’t even a writer but thought he’d spend half an hour jotting down thoughts on Saturday night and emerged three hours later with 19 pages of notes. Nineteen! He emailed me the PDF.
The third communique was channeled through a fellow blogger and future Man Booker Prize winner (we can dream, eh, NovelConqueror?) who also suggests that thirty minutes is about how long it takes to shift into high gear.
I get it.
Rearrange priorities. Turn off the phone. Strap kids to couch. Forgo bathing.