My Word Count and Stephen King

by Rachael Phillips

 

Today my word count will multiply like dandelions.

Like the amorous rabbits who devour my newly sprouted green beans.
Like the number of unanswered e-mails in my exponential account.
Well, all right, I’ll answer the important ones.
Ninety minutes later, I’ve subtracted twenty-five from eleven thousand and two.
And I’ve liked all the people who already finished their books.

Today’s word count stands at zero.

Well, actually at negative two.
I deleted an adjective from yesterday’s writing.
I wrote “The” to start today’s chapter,
Then decided that if the previous seventeen began with “The,”
I should start the eighteenth some other way.
Not that I’ve completed three-fourths of my book—
I’ve rewritten chapter one seventeen times.

Today my word count will multiply like the screamers

Who inhabit the neighboring school playground
Like the phone calls from telemarketers who can’t speak English
Like the lawnmowers in my neighborhood with arrhythmia
Parked outside my window.
Along with four dozen cars suffering from spastic car alarms and
Three off-key ice cream trucks.

I usually don't read Stephen King because his stories

Make me want to hide under the sofa.
However, he once said something to the effect that
Writers are like oysters. Oysters do not create pearls
By going to pearl-making conferences,
They make pearls by turning life’s irritations into something beautiful.

True, and quite poetic. At the rate

Irritations are multiplying today,
My word count should grow enough to
String necklaces for the entire population of Indiana,
Plus one,
Which I will send to Stephen King.

However, the pearl-making miracle hasn’t happened today,

At least, not to me.
How about you?