“Things Every Southern Woman Should Know How to Make”

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Alice clicked on the headline, mildly curious about what yet another stranger thought should be in her kitchen repertoire. Pictures of China plates mounded with crispy fried chicken, greens, cobbler, and a pile of biscuits a mile high flooded the screen, all set off with a pitcher of sweet tea beaded with condensation. The table was set; an apron draped off to the side next to a box labeled “Gramma’s Recipes” in fine calligraphy. She closed the browser and put away her tablet. She was born a Georgia peach, but she couldn’t make a cobbler to save her life. Did that mean she wasn’t southern? Or maybe just not “Southern.” For Alice, there was no recipe box full of family traditions. Her younger years were filled with rental homes in different states and her father’s voice coaxing her toward a text book rather than a cookbook. Metalworking and fabrication held more interest than learning to flambé or sauté. Did it make her less of a woman that her cooking skills consisted of fresh salads
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Brain Confetti: 60K


I had this brilliant moment of profoundness that I was going to lay on the world this morning. But that was 5am, I was still half-asleep, and all that awesomeness evaporated from my brain while I brushed my teeth.

So, today, I’m talking word count. Not what range a book should be in per audience/genre/attention span. There are lots o’ great places to find that information, particularly some agenty type people who will dish out all the publishing intel you could ever want to know.

No, I’m talking personal word count. Yesterday, I made 60k on my WIP. Sixty-thousand words woven together in a language tapestry, bonded together by syntax and context to verbally paint the story playing out movie-style in my head.

I cheered, did a little chair dance on my kitchen stool, and threw invisible confetti. Because 60k is a mile-marker, and now I’m closer to my destination than I was before.

It’s taken me longer than I thought it would to get here. Life likes to throw wrenches in the inspiration cogs, and it takes a while to get the damn things out sometimes. Sometimes inspiration will throw one in there just for shits and giggles.

What’s that? You’re clipping ahead at 1500 words a day? Well look at this shiny, sparkly nugget of OMG! You must write this down! Oh, hey! Look at this magnificent idea to revise that old project you’ve been burying under that new WIP. You should do this! Right now!

Yeah, my brain is its very own torture device.

I don’t ignore those sparklies. I write them down, get it out of my system, because it’s still writing. But then I smack myself and get back on track. I set myself little goals. A thousand words or more if I’m feeling perky. A hundred if my head is full of squirrelly thoughts that I can’t quite catch. Some days, some really bad, horrible, why-did-I-open-my-laptop days, I aim for a sentence. And eventually, sooner or later, I get to 60k.

Celebrate your victories, even if it’s only one hundred words. Throw invisible confetti. Enjoy it. Because one hundred words is one hundred closer to your destination.

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