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For folks like me, easily distracted by Facebook and the fridge, the launch of Lighthouse's Friday 500 is not just a perk for members, it's a godsend. This afternoon, along with many other folks, I showed up at Ferril House, laptop in tow, ready to bang out 500 words in two hours. Perhaps it was not a solid 120 minutes, as arriving and getting settled turned into a series of rituals. First I had to greet and catch up with a fellow non-fiction work shopper whom I had not seen in a few sessions. Then came the Goldilocks-esque decision of choosing a place to sit, finding that "just right" spot near an electrical outlet. As my laptop fired up, I went to the kitchen to choose a tea, fill a mug with hot water, and decide if I should grab some cookies and, if so, which kind (verdicts: yes, chocolate chip). Upon returning to my place I opened a box of Belgian dark chocolate that I had brought to share. Finally, with no more dilatory tactics at hand, I buckled down to write.
More or less, I stayed put and typed, except for one excursion to refill my mug and perform the valuable public service of eating more cookies. Sitting in a room abuzz with the click of keyboards and where the air practically crackled with concentration, helped harness my attention and keep it focused on my essay, even when it was tempted to wander to somewhat less challenging topics...such as what would I eat for dinner. And I must have been absorbed in my task because I was not obsessing over the number of words I produced...in fact, I forgot to keep track. However, my essay did lengthen and I noticed that the prose flowed a bit more easily than it usually does at home or in a cafe. And, as a bonus, a few ideas about the structure and organization of my essay popped up unexpectedly. About halfway through the session, a woman breezed into the room and sat down across from me, and was soon straight to work. When the time came for us to eventually leave, she said she had written 1,600 words. For a split second I was envious, but then I realized that the rest of us, working alongside her, could take some satisfaction in knowing that our presence might have boosted her productivity. As Lighthouse keeps proving to me again and again, writing is a communal act, an experience much enhanced when accompanied by caffeine and chocolate.
