Today I indulged myself.
No freaky drug references, and I did not bury my feelings of inadequacy in a 4L tub of chocolate ice cream (although, now that you mention it...). My indulgence was of a different sort.
I did the whole "school" thing today (just like every other week day in the history of forever), got home, and went to the library. Actually, I did some French homework first which I had originally chosen not to bore you with, but here goes. Not only is French quite possibly my favorite language in the entire world, but, not to brag, I like to think that I'm able to understand (at least what I know) fairly well. So many of the annoying students in my class complain about our teacher or don't do their work--I think it's because they think of French as just another subject; meaningless words on a page. It's a language! It's a universe! It's exciting!
Anyways, enough of my love affair with the French language. I went to the library, took out two very promising YA books (and renewed the two that I lost, so no hard feelings >.<), and sat on the floor reading Writer's Digest until my dad arrived from yoga.
Normally I don't like Writer's Digest (at all) but today I was in the mood for some semi-self-righteous babble that would undoubtedly make me question all I am as a writer. One of the key points that caught my attention somewhere in one of last year's issues was the idea of taking it slow.
Give yourself 15 minutes (or even just five minutes) a day, anywhere from 3-7 days a week--I'm shooting for seven!--to just sit down and write a page. One single page. See where that takes you! Some days will be harder than others, and some days you'll end up with dozens of pages for your effort. Carry on like this for a full year, though, and you'll have yourself a novel.
I am psyched. I just checked my emails, ate a disturbing amount of jellybeans, went on facebook, and checked over the various blogs I follow for updates. My indulgence. Now guess what? It's time to get writing.
One page won't write itself, after all.