1. An uninterrupted (and uninterruptable) block of time. Minimum required amount is one hour. 2-3 is preferable. 4 is heavenly.
   
   


2. An outline or rough idea of what you want to have written by the end of the Writing Day™. This can be a word amount (1,000 words/hour is my fastest rate) or maybe just completing a scene and starting a new one (I don't recommend ending a writing session when you finish a scene or chapter -- tough to get started again the next day when you have a sense of closure from the prior day).
   
   


3. Coffee. 1-4 mugs, please. Or just go for it and have a large latte.
   
   


4. Rockin' tunes. I've been drafting this novel to the sounds of Pearl Jam for the most part, their four most recent albums. I tried listening to less rocking music, but they don't get me as fired up as some good ol'-fashioned grunge.
   
   


5. Short breaks every hour. See "Coffee," above.
   
   


6. A reward for when the writing's done. For me, my reward is usually writing in this journal afterwards. I also plan on taking the dog for a long-ass walk today, and read some more stories from Jeffrey Ford's award-winning collection. Oh, and eat lunch -- I've been working from about 8:30 to now, and it's 12:30 (sometimes it's nice not having a Day Job!).
   
   


7. Final ingredient -- fun. Have lots of it while writing. Let your characters take you unexpected place, as happened to me today. Take chances and enjoy the ride. Writing may feel like work, but really it's focused play.
   
   

Mix all of the above and cook at about 98 or 99 degrees F. Repeat daily.



Now Playing:
"Riot Act," Pearl Jam


Now Reading:
The Fantasy Writer's Assistant, Jeffrey Ford


Today's Words:
2,600


Words for '03:
141,600


Today's Quote:
Johndo's black eyes regarded Joshua for a long moment that stretched on for almost a minute. His short hair-tentacles quivered like waving fingers, while the rest of him remained completely still. Joshua met his gaze, feeling the strength of his own faith mix with the wild energy of the People that the boy had reminded him of that morning.


I'll take whatever help I can get at this point, he thought. From heaven above, or elsewhere.


At last Johndo spoke one word before his hands were upon Joshua's head, his cold, short fingers elongating until they wrapped halfway around Joshua's balding scalp.


"Twilight," Johndo whispered, and then Joshua was gone.