2023: A Personal Overview; Part Two: Some Stats

I recently finished compiling the statistics of how many original words I wrote in 2023. Every year I keep a small journal with important appointments and so on, and every day in that journal I write down my word count for that day. My personal goal is to write at least five hundred words a day six days a week. (I excuse myself on Friday because of the transition into the weekend. On Monday through Thursday I do other paying freelance work in the mornings and afternoons and then do my creative work in the evenings. On Friday, though, I still do my quick-pay work but then I watch a movie in the evening. On Saturdays and Sundays, when there is less online work to grab, I allow myself the luxury of writing my creative words first thing in the morning. My ultimate goal is to get in a financial position that makes it possible for me to do that every morning. Sigh.

I’m not always able to focus on my five hundred fresh words, though; sometimes other bits of business intrude. For instance, there may be a finished story I need to give a final proof to and then send off. I also published three substantial books in 2023, and I needed to spend some of those evenings finalizing them. This year I also took two weeks off to visit and help take care of my grandson; during this time I did almost no writing work.

I knew, therefore, that my total word count would be lower than in past years, and I was pleased that it came to just over a hundred thousand words: 104,191 to be exact. To put this in perspective, my word total in 2022 was 138,365; in 2021 it was 176,939; and in 2020 it was 158,897. I tend to write more words when I am working on longer works such as novels and novellas; when I am writing short stories I often have gaps of a few days when I finish one and I am coming up with ideas of what to write next.

The point is that the urge to write is always there, and I am never so happy as when the words are flowing and I can maintain production day after day. I have never been able to understand authors who in interviews or essays proclaim that writing is so arduous and difficult. I love writing. I can’t imagine an existence in which I am not a writer. And it’s not like exercising; often I like having exercised – in other words the feeling I get afterwards – but the act of exercising itself is an ordeal. Writing is never like that. I love every aspect of the process: first drafts, revisions, and final proofing.

I have been reading a biography of Tolstoy by A. N. Wilson, and at one point, referring to the early 1850s when Tolstoy had begun composing fiction regularly, Wilson observes: “From now onwards, Tolstoy was a writer: that is, a man whose life is defined by what he is or is not writing.” What was true for Tolstoy back then is true for me now and for everyone else who is dedicated to the art of writing. It doesn’t always bring on a feeling of ecstasy, although sometimes it does, but it is always fulfilling. It is our purpose in life apart from mere existence. As Harlan Ellison put it: “In real life, we are what we do. I’m a writer. That’s what I do. Everything I do in a day is in some way connected to it.”

When you think of it in these terms, a year in which I produce only one hundred thousand original words is a slow year. Still, it is what it is. A lot got accomplished. And my goal for next year? To accomplish much more.