Some time in the next 24 hours, I hope to put in the final half hour of the seven I've been trying to complete since last Wednesday, the official Writers Write Day. Actually, if I count this blog (which is, after all, writing), I'll have less than thirty minutes to go.
In the end, Writers Write Day was a perfect example of a classic work ethic: do what you're supposed to do (write), then move on to the fun stuff (the Internet and other media.) It's the writing equivalent of eating your dinner before you scarf down your dessert.
Unfortunately, even though I've matured, my taste buds haven't. While I enjoy dinner, I still find dessert more alluring. And when it comes to writing, when the first few bites are hard to swallow, it's easy to give in to the temptation to sample dessert, especially when it's ready and waiting on the desktop.
But successfully participating in WWD required that I stay put and work for a designated amount of time, and once I got through the initial uphill battle - the part where the task was hard - the siren song of electronic entertainment began to fade, and eventually, even became dissonant and unwelcome.
Writers write because we must. There's something in our makeup that predisposes us to believe that a day is incomplete if no writing of any kind took place. In our daily lives, we sample writing in myriad little ways - lists, emails, a note jotted to a friend or spouse - but the best days are the ones where writing has been appetizer, soup, salad, main course and dessert.
So why is Writers Write Day necessary? Because in the cacophony of our daily lives, we rarely have the luxury of feasting on our writing, and so sometimes, we must make reservations. And when we do, we are rarely disappointed.