I am struggling with my first draft. I read reports of authors churning out 5,000 or 10,000 words per day, and I wonder if a radioactive spider bit them. Perhaps they mastered time travel, allowing them the luxury of writing, and deleting sentences multiple times. Or maybe they’ve found supercharged coffee beans. I need them in my coffeepot.

Studying successful authors, searching for clues, I discovered a plethora of tricks used to create what some describe as a “vomit” draft. Some locked themselves in hotel rooms, or garden sheds, or composed in their cars. Others, like Victor Hugo, Ernest Hemingway, and even Benjamin Franklin, wrote in the nude, with the idea that without clothes, there was nothing else they could do but write.

Writers have odd habits. We talk to ourselves, and our characters, we frequent baby name websites and please refrain from looking at our search history. I guarantee you don’t want to know. We eavesdrop on conversations in our home away from home, the coffee shop, then stare into space, oblivious of our surroundings. I ask Alexa for synonyms, or how to spell a simple word that refuses to appear on my screen. I am not above doing anything that will facilitate getting more words written faster.

What are your secret writing hacks?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Do you rejoice on Monday morning and sigh when Friday afternoon arrives? Or have I got those days flip-flopped? Letting work’s negative aspects wheedle their way into daily life can happen without us realizing it. We have all been there. Seeking success, we let our job consume every waking moment. We fill hours with “doing” toiling at positions we detest and dream of “being” free.

Imagine a sphere containing duties and an endless list of assignments, tasks, jobs, and obligations. Requirements we feel we must do. A second circle encompasses fun, pleasure, laughter, and wonder. This world is filled with free will choices and playful options. If we are lucky those two areas intersect. The intersection blends the worlds, and the differences between work and play merge. Struggles become an exciting challenge, and enjoyment creates a light workload.

Discovering meaningful employment that makes you happy is difficult. Making enough to eke out an existence is easy, and it is the reason many opt for the security it offers. Minimum risk yields little delight.

How will you enrich the world?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Encouragement fortifies our resolve and sustains the journey towards our most ambitious goals. With our heads buried in countless details, we slog from one unfinished task to a completed assignment. Reaching the ultimate destination sometimes seems impossible. Consumed by endless lists of to-dos, the goal fades. It helps to take a break and see how far I have journeyed. Then I realized the road still disappears beyond the horizon’s edge and my work is nowhere near finished.

I adjust my plan and restructure my daily markers, setting them to help me push forward, striding ahead, inching closer to my definition of success. I am free to forget about the endgame and the big picture. I can focus on my performance, concentrating on the job before me.

When the going gets tough when my tasks are never-ending, when I would rather binge-watch reruns, I persevere. When I fear I am not smart enough, or possess sufficient talented, or lack strength, I endure. Day follows day, and I continue, knowing I will arrive.

How will you persist today?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Is it any wonder our ancestors developed speech? Hand gestures, while they convey meaning, have a limited range. Where did languages originate? Do words define a language or do languages dictate words? What was the first word ever spoken? Was it a name, an obscenity, or a sound signifying, “Stop, Danger ahead?” It’s all speculation, and while linguists float many theories, they are, most likely, all wrong.

The dichotomy supports the idea that words are magical creatures. A single word can cut to the core and divide people into irreconcilable sides. Conversely, uttering a different word soothes the savage beast and make everyone smile. Words can sing or sting, elevate or oppress, and bind us to freely seek change.

They possess energy and power. They provide the tools to express the abstract thoughts swimming in our heads. Without them, great ideas live unfulfilled lives, trapped in an imaginary world far removed from reality. Lacking communication, we have limited perceptions, and with it, the universe is our domain. What we do with the words we learn is an awesome responsibility, one that demands we remain mindful of their impact.

Which words will you choose today?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I admit it. Recently, I have been failing a lot. While I can meet my daily minimum word count target, I am struggling to reach my stretch goal. Since I aim to develop and constantly improve my productivity, I strive to increase the number of times I exceed my expectations. Because a daily goal needs to be, well, daily.

Time to conduct a study, collect data, crunch numbers and run them through the analysis machine. I discovered a pattern for the days I attained the stretch goal. Before going to bed, I planned. Don’t worry kids, I didn’t create outlines or other complicated drills in this process.

Instead, I set the stage. Each session was different, but they bore similar themes. I prepared the tableau for the next day’s writing period. Think about throwing a barbeque. First, you decide what you want to serve, go shopping, hang decorations, and make a few dishes in advance. The day of the party, you cook. I developed a new tactic. Each evening, I prepare for a blowout, so in the morning, I only need to sit and write. We’ll see how it goes.

What have you learned from your failures?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Do you gaze at our brilliant blue atmosphere as clouds drift by, and imagine pirate ships, cannon fire, and pirates swinging from the yardarm? Do you see creamy silver-lined bunnies chewing the dandelions and carrot tops they stole from Mr. McGregor’s garden?

I spy an elephant ankle-deep in a river, using its trunk to splash water on its back. I have watched puffs of white cotton run from the approaching tempest and wondered if they found a place to hide. Or did the slate gray, rain-laden storm clouds swallow them whole?

The night sky conjures images of galaxies light-years away with extraterrestrials orbiting their planet. I wish upon the north star, plastered against velvety black heaven, I wonder if someone in another world is seeking answers from this same illumination. Are they alone, frightened, in need of a friend?

What do you conjure when you look upwards?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

It doesn’t happen often anymore, but when it does, I freeze. Someone asks me to complete a form, sign a birthday card, or jot a note for them. Heaven forbid they need my signature. My longhand is pretty much illegible to anyone but me. In school, my classmates never asked to borrow my notes more than once. It made sense to me, but when I looked at their elegant script, I hid my paper. I grew tired of losing exam points and experiencing the walk of shame to the teacher’s desk to explain that I had the correct answer.

I rejoiced when the teacher required typed submissions. The font removed judgment, and censor. Times New Roman masked my personality and the hidden secrets in my scrawling. My words stood on their own merit, untainted by the reader’s assumptions revealed by my scratching. The ink color, the direction of slant, the size of my loops, or my sentences rising as they cross the page, no longer came into question.

My handwriting always draws comments, so I print. It was self-defense. Every letter carefully executed in capitals. Letters requiring capitalization, I make taller. I am proficient and print faster than most people write. My hand screams annoyance and conveys the nuisance of writing with a pen for others to analyze. Then the questions begin. Are you an architect? An engineer? A scientist? Once they look at my name, they ask if I am a doctor.

What does your handwriting reveal about you?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Few people can claim the success title. Success is awarded to those audacious people who defy the crowd. They embrace different, weird, and eccentric. They court originality, independent thought, and defying groupthink, and they amaze the masses.

It’s normal to desire normalcy, to crave the tribe’s acceptance, and the tribe wants its members to conform. It uses its power, exerting derision to eliminate the “different,” to enforce the homogeneous patterns which define the collective.

The road is lonely, being a writer requires solitary hours spent creating. We agonize over our decision to deviate from the crowd, acutely aware of our sacrifice, as we subject ourselves to the contempt of the tribe.  It’s the price demanded of those who embark on a path precious few dare travel.

Do you have the courage to join the superstars?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

It has been a long, busy week. Lots of work, and more than a few late nights and early mornings has left my batteries low. During the week I take a break every 52 minutes, but you can only sustain the pace for so long. What I need now is less work and more time doing nothing.

I have learned downtime is just as important as working hard. You know work hard, play hard. It is time for a relaxing cup of tea, a blazing fire in the fire pit, a good book and perhaps a nap. No, I am sure there will be a nap. Then I know I can return to my work and be productive.

How often do you take breaks and recharge?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The poor unicorn is a much maligned and misunderstood creature.  Whether you believe the unicorn is a case of mistaken identity, and it is a rhinoceros, a narwhal, a long-extinct beast or merely a myth, he has survived for centuries. Accounts surfaced in ancient Greek mythology and circled the globe. From the Mediterranean to India and China to Chile, it is the stuff of legends.

For me, magic and legend present as two sides of a coin minted with equal parts history, and fantasy, mixing reality with imagination. The stories depict a ferocious brute which refused capture. When hunted, it would jump off a high cliff. The unicorn allowed the power concentrated in its glittering head ornament to absorb the impact and let it escape unscathed.

I like the concept of collecting mankind’s negative energy in an enchanted chalice to save the beast’s life. It is easy to pretend I am a unicorn when confronted with self-doubt, the dreaded imposter syndrome or when well-meaning friends take potshots at my goals. I collect the distressing thoughts, deposit them in my sparkling, magical unicorn horn, and watch them disappear. Then, I open my document and write.

How will you use your unicorn superpowers?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer