I did the Motel 6 thing again.
Early on Thursday morning I checked into a dingy room in the big Motel 6 at I-435 and 87th so I could knuckle down and write my damned proposal. Almost as soon as I got into the room and plopped down my brief case I regretted. The room was just so bleak.
I thought for a minute about driving to Powell Gardens, which is a fair distance away -- as if this would "inspire me" to "unleash my creative spirit."
Instead, I tried reworking a sentence on a paper draft. Soon I found myself flipping on the lap top to record the thoughts as they were coming. And they were coming, steadily but still painfully at first, as if I were coaxing a spiky tape worm out of my throat. On several occasions my brain and typing fingers misconnected and my whole system would shut down suddenly. I'd got up and pace the room, pining for escape. But with nothing immediately available to command my attention I was back typing again within a few minutes. Had a been at home I would've been out in the garden, and the whole day would be shot.
I continued thiis way until about six last night, not counting my two-hour lunch and impulsive shopping spree at Dick's Sporting Goods. By the time I drove home (you didn't think I'd sleep there, did you?) I had about 4,500 words down. Good day.
I woke this morning before four and I couldn't go back to sleep, so I headed back to the Motel 6 and, with a tall cup of QT coffee by my side, I was back writing before sunrise.
And then I was done by 8:45!
Which is all a longwinded way of saying the Motel 6 thing works!! I know it's just a stupid trick. I still have home and all the distractions of my home city an easy car ride away. Yet the prospect of a 15 minute drive is enough of a deterrent to get past the initial impulse to flee, which emerges every single time I find myself struggling for a word (which is often). Add to this the $45 investment for the room itselfv -- not a lot of money, but enough to raise a second thought about bailing. For the most part, these two buffers are enough to send me back to the computer to try to peck out just one little sentence. And usually that's all it takes -- one sentence, and I'm rolling.