I have a practice of writing exactly 100 words every night in a Word document (the modern gal’s version of quill pens and crisp parchment). Every day is totally different and bit by bit I learn about how narrative is shaped. I usually write these right before I go to sleep.
Maybe it’s a quarter-life crisis, but something about seeing my consciousness become a series of 2″x6″ blocks of text made me very anxious indeed, and it became necessary for me to prove to myself that life is still boundless, always infinite.
This gave birth (no epidural, feet-first) to yet another project in which I write 100 word life plans. 100 words is long enough to where I can hammer out important details, but it limits me so I don’t get carried away. So I’ll publish one for you every day, and if you are ever feeling stuck and not sure what you want to do with your life, you’ll have a catalogue of possible life outcomes to choose from. Feel free to add your own in the comments!
Don’t check to see if you have pulled the door shut all the way. Who cares about the confidential files strewn about on your desk? It’s not your problem anymore. Wave goodbye, like always. Don’t betray your secret with words. Just smile and go to your car, parked at the curb, sun reflecting from the left bumper to a glare, and hurry home. You’ll check the three copies of your resume to see which one is best for Careerladder.com after CSI. Tomorrow morning, you’ll ignore their calls and pull the pillow over your head—you forgot to unplug the phone.