Falling off the lobby-wagon (The week in writing, August 10-16)

This past week was in some ways a downward slope. My commitment to the proposed experiment (brewing coffee at home and bringing it to my apartment complex's lobby for an hour or two of writing) grew more tenuous each day, until, somewhere around the middle of the week, I just accepted that I wasn't doing it anymore.

Not much of a scientist, am I?

The appeal of staying at home, sitting on the couch and peacefully sipping coffee, luxuriously crossing the short distance to my clicky keyboard and chunky monitor, it all inspired a lot of resistance in me. The good news is that, despite my lack of resolve in adhering to my own experiment, I did write every day this week. My spreadsheet tells me my average time at the desk was about 76 minutes. The bad news is that I spent none of that time on jotting down daily notes for this blog. This post is a rearview mirror look on Saturday.

I think I averaged more time in the previous week, but I kept noodling on the thought that ended my last post: "...there's a lot of life going on around my writing. I shouldn't neglect the rest of my day, because if I do, I run the risk of burn out. [...] If I want to be an excellent writer – and I think I do – then this will require sustained effort over decades." And in thinking about that, I decided to try and limit my time at the desk to an hour a day. I don't know if this makes much sense, but I'm afraid that pushing too hard might mean unintentional days off in the future, and I would rather build a short, consistent, resilient habit, and not rely on seasonal spurts of motivation. My word count might occasionally sag, but at least I wouldn't get sick of it. Who knows? I might even become more efficient. As though I were running every day. My fitness could grow over time. I think, if I manage this habit intentionally and carefully, that I might be able to grow it into more. But if it wasn't clear already, I'm making all of this up as I go along. I'm sure what ends up working for me will not be something that universally works for all other writers.

So. I abandoned the habit with which I tried to experiment. In what ways was I intentional?

On Thursday, I typed this note on my phone:

WEEKDAY

• 5:00 - wake up
• remove - watching content - replace - music? make an instrumental playlist
• 5:45 - meditate - "2 min" = shortest length on Headspace, I don't have to close eyes or try hard
• 6:00 - writing fiction - 2 min = open notes and write two sentences
• 7:00 - get ready (inc. gym bag)
• GYM BAG = dip belt, wrist straps, towel, shirt, shorts, shoes, protein, carb gels
• 7:15 - leave for work
• POST-LUNCH - analysis / personal writing - 2 min = open notes and write (or transcribe) two sentences
• 4:00 - get home - resistance training - 2 min = one set, no weights
• immediately after - cardio - 2 min = go to locker room, change shorts and shoes
• 6:00 - eat dinner
• 7:15 (after dinner and dishes) - finances - 2 min = open both Monarch and Simplifi and label one transaction each
• 7:30 - game or TTRPG prep or read - 2 min = just open game or module or book on PS5 or Steam or Demiplane
• 8:30 - bed - read?
• eventually - sleep

I'll explain.

I've mentioned James Clear's Atomic Habits framework – the "habit loop" – on this blog before. (I don't know if it's accurate to credit the "loop" to him, since he didn't do the science that lead to those findings, but he did write a book that educated people about it.) Cue, craving, response, reward.

I decided to revisit how I think about engineering cues and responses through my day, with a particular focus on the so-called two-minute habit. Making the desired response, the habit, as easy as possible. Clear suggests approaching habits this way, at least initially, to let them get a foothold in the mind, even if the plan is to later expand the response into something longer.

I thought it might be nice to restart a meditation habit, which was something I did for a year or two, then let fall away. But, as I was making this plan, I told myself the meditation could be as short as possible, and I didn't even need to try that hard. Just sit there and listen to the nice voices. I planned to let that roll right into a morning writing session, but that all I needed to do was write two sentences, and then I could be done.

This might seem counterproductive, since I'm already writing much more than two sentences on a regular basis. But the point is to let this miniscule minimum be a saving grace on days where I might otherwise not write anything at all. Is there a big difference between two sentences and zero? On paper, no. But mentally, I think there is. If I sit at my desk and open my notes and type on my keyboard every single morning without fail... I think there's something to that.

I will say this isn't a perfect plan. There are some habits that need more time in the oven before they're ready. For example, I have a bad habit of watching YouTube or streaming content in the morning when I wake up, which can lead to me getting distracted and sitting at the writing desk later than I meant to. I thought listening to instrumental music could be a nice distraction, while also providing me the space to clear my head and prepare to write. In theory, it's not hard to open a music streaming app and press play, but I've still rebelled against doing it for the last two mornings. (Early Morning Me has long been a belligerent enemy to Rest of the Day Me.) I'll need to think through other tools for dismantling this "bad" habit and encouraging the "good" one.

I'll let this little schedule be the experiment for this coming week. I hope to follow through on it, even if it's in the most bare effort way possible. As long as I repeat some sort of motion at the same time and in the same place every day, I think it can work. But I've also sketched a hundred different schedules before, and none of them were ever perfect in practice.

"There will always be things to do, and there will always be things to wait for." – Eve Lewis Prieto, Headspace, "Practice Patience"

I think finding a way to establish daily rhythm and consistency is one of the most important things I can do for my writing. That being said, I imagined I would use this blog to get more in the weeds with writing itself, rather than talking about my day all the time. I don't have time to write a whole different post, and I do think the above is an honest reflection of at least part of my week in writing, but as a bonus, I'll throw in some notes I took while looking over a few screenplays this week. I don't know if you ever wonder what the average word count of a scene is, or how that affects the feeling of pace in a script or movie, but I sure do.

Sideways (2009)

Scene 1: Miles tries and fails to get there on time.

582 words over 3.25 pages.

August Osage County (2013)

Scene 1: The county landscape. Beverly's thoughts on life, his wife, and TS Eliot. (Beverly.)

390 words over 1.75 pages.

Scene 2: Violet fights her way downstairs. Beverly describes his wife's troubles. (Violet; Beverly, Johnna.)

382 words over 1.75 pages.

Scene 3: Violet crashes the interview and embarrasses Bev. (Violet, Beverly, Johnna.)

297 words over 2.5 pages.

Scene 4: Beverly levels with Johnna, post-interruption. (Beverly, Johnna.)

231 over 1.25 pages.

Scene 5: Abstract montage of Beverly's death. (Beverly.)

99 words over 0.5 pages.

Scene 6: Jean wakes Barbara for a call. (Jean, Barbara.)

215 words over 1.25 pages.

Birdman (2015)

Scene 1: Riggan talks to himself. (Riggan, Birdman.)

191 words over 0.75 pages.

Scene 2: Riggan Skypes his daughter. (Riggan, Sam, Flower Seller.)

239 words over 1 page.

Scene 3: Riggan heads to rehearsal, complains to Jake. (Riggan, Jake, Stage Hand.)

112 words over 0.75 pages.

Scene 4: Riggan rehearses with Ralph, Lesley, and Laura. (Riggan, Ralph, Lesley, Laura, Jake, Annie.)

747 words over 3.25 pages.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)

Scene 1: Mildred sees the billboards and makes a decision. (Mildred.)

119 words over 0.25 pages.

Scene 2: Mildred convinces Red. (Mildred, Red.)

427 words over 2 pages.

Scene 3: Dixon discovers the billboards. (Dixon, Latinos, Jerome, Willoughby.)

523 words over 2.75 pages.

Scene 4: Mildred monitors reactions on the way to school and work. (Mildred, Robbie, Denise.)

152 words over 0.75 pages.

Scene 5: The police chew out Red. (Red, Desk Sergeant Cedric, Willoughby.)

200 words over 1.25 pages.

Scene 6: Dixon demands they do something. (Dixon, Willoughby, Desk Sergeant Cedric.)

148 words over 1 page.

Scene 7: Dixon threatens Red. (Dixon, Red.)

105 words over 0.5 pages.

Scene 8: Mildred calls out Willoughby on TV. (Mildred, Gabriella, Dixon, Dixon's Mom, Willoughby, Anne.)

372 words over 2 pages.

Knives Out (2019)

Scene 1: Fran finds Mr. Thrombey. (Fran.)

229 words over 1.25 pages.

Scene 2: Marta tries keeping it together. (Marta, Alice, Mom.)

309 words over 1.5 pages.

Scene 3: Marta meets Meg and moves past the cop. (Marta, Cop, Meg.)

139 words over 1 page.

Scene 4: Richard snaps at Ransom. (Linda, Marta, Richard, Wagner.)

205 words over 1 page.

Scene 5: Lieutenant Elliott gets Linda talking. (Elliott, Linda, Wagner.)

181 words over 1 page.

Parasite (2019)

Scene 1: The family seeks Wi-Fi. (Ki-Woo, Ki-Jung, Chung-Sook, Ki-Tek.)

447 words over 2.5 pages.

Conclave (2024)

Scene 1: Walking to the Pope's bed. (Lawrence, etc.)

484 words over 1.75 pages.

Scene 2: The prayer and the cutting of the ring. (Lawrence, Bellini, Tremblay, Adeyemi, etc.)

415 words over 1.75 pages.

Scene 3: Lawrence and Bellini, chess and heart attacks. (Lawrence, Bellini.)

249 words over 1.25 pages.

Scene 4: Lawrence and Bellini attempt to gather information. Tremblay and Adeyemi jump in. (Lawrence, Bellini, Wozniak, Tremblay, Adeyemi.)

562 words over 2.75 pages.

Scene 5: Lawrence calls Tedesco. The news is already circulating. (Lawrence, Tedesco, Bellini, Tremblay, Adeyemi.)

273 words over 1.75 pages.

Scene 6: The room is sealed. (Lawrence, etc.)

244 words over 1 page.

Scene 7: Preparations begin for the conclave. (Lawrence, etc.)

230 words over 1 page.

Scene 8: Lawrence and Mandorff discuss security. (Lawrence, Mandorff.)

140 words over 1 page.

Observations.

• Light scene = 120 - 280 words.
• Chunky scene = 300 - 500 words.
• Long scene = 600+ words.