Sitting Log #51
- The Fortune of the Palms (done!!!): 120 mins
- When the Closet Worked Its Magic (almost done): 100 mins
And then this entry here, which doesn’t count.
Creation-ish sitting streaks
- Day 3 of breathing exercise
- Day 3 of giant journal writing
Re-reading stuff I wrote a year ago because I didn’t bother to finalize the metadata back then is the most painful exercise. This is the case, even though I mostly don’t remember the stories I wrote back then. I mean, between then and now, I wrote hundreds of thousands of new words, fiction and nonfiction, so of course I don’t remember the details. It would be like remembering what color skirt I wore on June 4 of 2019, after having lived hundreds of days thereafter. Or what I ate on April 17 of 2021, after having lived more than a year thereafter.
The pain doesn’t come from story-level repetition. It comes from the awareness of the fundamental futility of having to spend time on something that I already spent plenty of time on spending time. 😭 This is time I could be using on new words or sleep or whatever else, anything but spending time on stuff I’ve already spent time on. Argh.
Add to that the awareness that this is 100% my fault, and the pain multiplies. Seriously, I don’t know what I was thinking. At first I thought I’d misplaced the metadata somehow, but then I didn’t remember ever having written it. At all.
Never again. In the next few weeks, I will mostly concentrate on podcast scripts and finalizing ALL metadata of all the unpublished stuff. That way, going forward, I never have to look at stuff I’ve written in the past.
This is why Heinlein said rules #4 and #5. After more than a million words, the weight of the past adds up. Imagine the weight of two million words, three million words.
There is no way one can keep looking back at past stories. Moving forward is the only way to be writing for 40, 50, hey, maybe even 70+ years, and still be actually writing instead of having written.
🌊 Call me Ithaka. Everything I do is organized here.