For some reason, December continues to be one of my most productive months for writing. Perhaps it is the "long night" phenomenon: shorter days compute to longer periods of darkness and, thus, more extended hours at the writing desk. Or perhaps it is psychological. As the year inches toward a close, I feel compelled, insatiably-driven even, to complete all of my projects and transfer everything that is inside my head onto the page (which may not be so difficult, come to think of it).
After a lunch party on Sunday with good friends, I came home, sat down, and began writing. I've been writing ever since and plan to continue into the wee hours of the night. In fact, if I can continue until 2 a.m., I can get a full 12 hours in . . . haven't written that much in a long time.
My goal today? To complete a thirty-five page book proposal that I hope to toss into the cold, literary winds of January.
I can also write with abandon today because Becky is also writing . . . completing a final paper for her IU administrator's class. I'm well-fed, drunk on coffee, and hanging words on the page as if they were Christmas lights on a tree (which we don't have yet).
Becky has reminded me that we need to get a tree this week, or else we should forget it all-together. I vote for the latter, but even so, I've got pages to write before I sleep.
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