I'm Overwhelmed

Sure, I can do that. That's what I said to myself when the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge was launched.

It seemed easy at first. All I had to do was relax and fetch one of the zillion ideas drifting through my imagination. Flotsam that had build up in my writer's mind faster than space debris in near-Earth orbit.

Then a funny thing happened. I started to see that little red needle start to arc its way to "E" on my cogni-gauge. I began to pay attention to the entire world and my entire life for seeds of ideas. And now with a little more than a month to go, I find myself getting a little desperate.

Writing takes longer when you can't just pluck ideas, themes, or schematic plot lines out of the air. Besides just the time vetting ideas as "Story-a-Day" idea-worthy, once begun, I found it took extra time to make it so.

And then there's the whole 366-word limit. At first I thought this would make it easier, but no. To express a cogent tale requires a writing skillset that easily breaches the 366-word limit. I found I spent as much time pruning down to 366 as the actual writing.

I resisted (as hard as I could) the temptation to make Parts 1, 2, etc., because I felt that was cheating. But we all (the three of us left) did that. The trick, it seems, was to make each part stand on its own. More time tweaking things.

As the year ground on, the importance (a private struggle for relevance) seemed to grow. The importance of "going the distance," actually pulling it off. Doing it.

And just because I'm closer to December 31 than I've ever been doesn't mean I see any light at the end of the tunnel. No, it's getting harder. December 31 is a point only reached by surfing an asymptote. And time is compressing, making it harder.

I've had to neglect reading the work of my supporters and my very kind commenters. Dutifully reciprocating with well-deserved reads and likes, I've fallen behind.

And on top of that, I have a life. During all this.

I just flew back from a very rare vacation where I had hoped I had stacked up the queue of stories ready for publication each day, in absentia. I was sloppy. And for the second time this year I fell behind. (The first time I was saved by a 3-parter once I figured out how to make each interdigitating part stand alone as its own story.) But over the Atlantic, I knew I was behind a couple of days again--and the jet had no Internet.

So, OK, I've caught up again, but I'm feeling the pressure.

And although I'm confident the three of us will get it done, that doesn't make the worry, pressure, or creativity missteps any less.

So please, please give me a "pass" if I don't respond to your wonderful, helpful comments until the end of the year. Or am able to read everything I should. I'm running out of bytes.