A Year of Daily Fiction

Is it self-indulgent to write about your own weird habit? Yes. But I love indulgence. That’ s what writers do. Indulge. Anyway:

Mid-way through 2020, I decided I was going to start writing a small piece of fiction every single day. I’ve stuck to that for a year now, more or less (I’ve missed like two days, sue me), so I thought I’d take this opportunity to explain myself; why did I start the dailies? Do they serve any purpose? And why do I ritualistically post them to Twitter every day?

Some context: 2020 was a weird fucking year. Sheltering from the pox outside, I had time heaped upon my hands. Not that I was particularly productive inside these strange new circumstances, but writing doesn't feel like producing as much as it does converting. I had previously finished the third re-write of my first novel (yes third - and word to the wise - never re-write something three fucking times, just write something else) and I was deep into the arduous process of querying it out to literary agents. This involves making a nice little package of a sample, cover letter, synopsis, and then pinging it off into the void of various professionals’ inboxes, getting an automated receipt back, then waiting around for three months for them to email back: ‘No, thank you.’ Suffice to say it’s a long, soul-crushing experience, but it’s all par for the course in the writing industry, where agents act as a giant filter for traditional publishing houses who would otherwise be accosted, day and night, by lunatics who re-write the same book three times.

So, while I was waiting around for responses for my first book, how should I occupy my time? Write another book, obviously. But it’s a little daunting to have just finished one 150,000 word document only to open up an empty page and start all over again. I don't usually get bored with what I'm writing, but it does happen. Working on the same story, day in, day out, you kind of lose focus in the same way you might if you were staring at the same picture for several hours a day. You might love the picture - look, there’s a lovely little cow - but after a while you start seeing things that might not actually be there, or start to get fixed on details and forget what the picture looks like when you take a step back. Writers need variety. Or, at least, I do. So before I dived right into another novel-length piece of fiction, I thought I’d start slowly on some little appetisers.

The first daily was about a troll that lived in a pond and was entirely too long. I soon figured out I wouldn’t be cranking out 2,000 words of random fiction a day in addition to the other writing I had to do. For one, I simply didn’t have the time or energy. So I had to set myself some parameters: First, there is no limit on content or form, and there is only a soft limit on length at about 500 words. Second, I’d post every daily, every day, to my Twitter feed. Why? The massive social clout of course. This blog, that hosts the dailies, frequently crashes under the strain of the breathless hordes trying to get in. But it also has the helpful secondary effect of applying a little pressure to get the daily done. There’s a very visible account of whether I’ve done it that day or not. The third and most important parameter; no stress. The point of the dailies isn’t to add more work to my day or to tirelessly peruse perfection. They’re supposed to be relaxing. The quality doesn’t matter. They can be about anything, or be about nothing at all.

The first parameter, or lack of limit I suppose, means I can get practice in for a lot of the skills that sometimes go unflexed for months. I might spend a huge amount of time describing dusty desert landscapes, building a tension in a rickety saloon, and passing weeks of summary across the wilds between scenes. But I might not have had a kaiju smackdown in a while. Or I might not have had a psychedelic dream sequence. Or I might just be in the mood to describe a cool sword or something. The dailies have taken place in crystal mountains, tunnels to the centre of the earth, on planets on the other side of the galaxy. They've featured warriors, mothers, and undead stag gods. I got to go a lot of different places with a lot of different people to lots of different things. Naturally this means I get to dabble genre tropes outside the purview of my current project; horror, fantasy, whatever. With a novel you tend to be locked into the genre you started with. Even if you’re into genre twists like I am, there's a limit to how much you get bend conventional structures until it starts to get a bit too messy.

It’s also nice just to have an outlet for that wanderlust. Scenes from unwritten works pop into my head constantly. Sometimes I’ll forget them. Sometimes they’ll sit there, agitating me like the little gremlins that they are. Getting them out onto the page is the only way to get rid of them. The problem with an idea is that its not always a good idea. Or, rather, I can’t always be bothered to make it into a good idea. With the dailies, it doesn’t matter. They’re the textual equivalent of a doodle. They’re not good and I don’t expect them to be good, whatever ‘good’ might mean. But they are out of my head, which is important. I need that space for Warhammer Fantasy lore.

The second parameter is mostly about discipline. I really don’t know what makes a good novel writer - and God knows I’ve got a very long way to go before even approaching the kind of skill exhibited by the writers I admire - but one thing that comes up a lot when writers are asked about how they get to where they are is discipline. More than raw talent and privilege, more than luck or nepotism (all of which all play a huge role in publishing, no doubt), it is discipline that is the constant between many professional writers. Or appears to be, anyway. They could just be lying about that. It does make you sound good, doesn’t it? Saying how disciplined you are.

But I am inclined to agree, based on what I’ve learned doing the dailies for a year (and yes I did learn something). I used to track the word count of my novel each day and aimed to do around 500 words a day. After a month or so that became 1,000 words a day. Then in the following year I was comfortably doing 2,000 words when I had a full day of writing to myself. But then when I wasn’t writing, because of work, or holidays, or whatever, I would fall out of the rhythm of it. I’d suddenly not write for weeks on end. And when it came to starting again, it was like trying to get a windup engine started in the cold. I’d just stare at the page and struggle to push out 300 words.

As a side note – word count isn’t everything. You can write as much or as little as you want to or are able to. Writing more doesn’t make you a more skilful writer. I think its more about consistency, and for me I was sorely lacking that.

Other commitments break the flow. I gotta go to work. I want to see my fiancé, family, and friends. Occasionally, I like to do thinks like reading and playing games. I can’t (or don’t want to) always sit down to research, plot, and write a novel. But I also want to keep writing on the brain. Keep those skills sharp though use. Dailies are ideal for that. Ideal for me anyway. And that Twitter commitment helps hold me up on the discipline front. The dailies 'bridge' the gap between writing sessions. I might be running high on 4,000 words on Saturday, work Sunday through Wednesday, then jump right back in Thursday with a comfortable 3,000.

And that doesn’t mean they’re the perfect solution. Sure, most of them take less than ten minutes to write, edit, and post (and the time limits I have some days certainly teach you the fine art of conciseness). But some days, you barely get ten minutes to yourself. It means I have to make the conscious decision to get it done, get it posted. And I must actively think of an idea, a scenario, a character. That can be a ball ache sometimes, which is why occasionally I’ll write literary fiction.

But the dailies have become routine at this point. Part of the morning, somewhere between showering and breakfast. In fact it’s gotten to the point where it’d be weird if I didn’t do one. Like forgetting to take your keys when you leave the house. So I’ll keep them up, I think. I enjoy them. And some of you enjoy them too.

I guess that’s the last thing to say about the dailies, and the third parameter. I never expected anyone to read them and most days, nobody does. Which is kind of the point, they’re for me. But, when people do read them, or like the post, or tell me they enjoyed one, I can’t lie: it’s a wonderful feeling. Part of why I write really, both long and short form fiction, is that interaction with other people. Writing can be lonely most of the other time. And it may be just me seeking validation. It may be ego. I’m not sure I really care, because all I know is that when people say anything about your work, good or bad, it makes it feel real. Makes it feel like its part of this world and not just something stuck in the immaterium of your mind.

Which is not me saying I want any more people to read or interact with my dailies any more or less than they already do. I’ll do them regardless. It’s mainly to say that; whatever you friends have going on, be they artistically inclined or not, let them know you’re thinking about their interest. That you think their project looks neat. Or that they’ve come a lot since the last thing they did. It’s easy to forget to do it, but I guarantee that, even if you have to sit through hours of someone passionately talking about the history of the boiled potato, it will mean at least a warm fuzzy feeling for that friend of yours, if not months of extra motivation. I know it does for me.

So yeah. Dailies are good practice, good routine, and good fun. I like them. You might like them. Why not give one a go? Or two? Or three hundred and sixty five?

Anyway, thanks for reading my ramble about my ultra specific habit. It's nice to make a fuss about these things. I’m sure I’ll be back with another when something else of minor significance happens. Take care. Be nice.

Paddy.