Literature Is Not Dead

Point to the internet this morning. I signed on half an hour ago to write this post and nearly stood up and walked away from the computer just now having forgotten to write it entirely.

Back in the good old days I used to write an hour every day. For a long time I fell out of habit, but this marks the fifth week of my return to quotas. My goal is 500 words a day, and I’ve hit it every day but four. Most days I’ve crushed it, in fact, since once I start moving I can easily turn out 2000 words in an hour or so.

I work well under quotas, but then I’ve never had much trouble self motivating. Others find my motivation impressive. Since it doesn’t feel that way to me, I’ve begun thinking a lot about motivation and where it comes from.

So this paragraph should have a big insight. Only I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’m tempted to say that our dreams motivate us, but everyone has dreams. Some people build on their dreams and some don’t. Why? If the internet doesn’t distract me, maybe I’ll have answers in my next post.

No word from grad schools as of yet, though I had a dream (the sleepy kind, not the motivation kind) that I received an acceptance letter from Goucher, a school I did not apply to. The acceptance letter referenced writings of mine I’d never sent in but which they’d found by infiltrating my life. The letter was written on the back of another, unrelated letter.