How I Write 257k Words a Day Without Breaking a Sweat

The secrets to my unheard-of success.

Photo by Jake Weirick on Unsplash

*This article is fictional and meant to be humorous. Enjoy!

Your writing skills ain’t got nothin’ on me. While you struggle to post your one article today, I already posted six.

How do I do it, you might ask?

I could boast about my ability to schedule hours devoted to writing articles back-to-back in bulk. Balancing life with two kids and a demanding wife.

I do write in bulk, but here’s the real key. I’m always writing. Bulk writing is my life. My entire life.

The wife and kids I mentioned earlier, I rarely ever speak to them in person.

They write me. In texts, via email, even on Facebook messenger. They know my goal is and must remain, being a top writer. This is what I live for, and they give me the space to pursue it all.

Sleep? Who needs it?!

I can survive on two hours a night. Even with that one day a month where my body gives out completely, and I crash into the bed, sleeping for 24 hours, I am still a consistent writing machine.

I keep a notepad by my bed and it’s filled with notes I generated subconsciously in my sleep. My wife says when my hand is writing, she dare not wake me lest I lose the next Kubla Khan.

I might be a writing God.

I was once like you. Disappointed with my writing progress and wondering how to add more words to my documents each day.

While you stress over what time to squeeze in a little typing time, I’m writing like lightning. Striking my Macbook like pebbles in a tornado.

A storm that never lets up.

I was once like you. Disappointed with my writing progress and wondering how to add more words to my documents each day.

After reading several articles on productivity, it came to me.

I must go all in. So, writing is all I do. Taking time to shower is a luxury. Even after I get out, my laptop is waiting next to the sink. I only dry my hands as I begin writing again, letting my bare body air dry.

I bet you think my wife is jealous. She’s more envious of how much time I spend caressing my coffee mug. The number of coffee beans I need to fuel this obsession could fill a grain silo. Make that two. My wife knits constantly and shares this devotion to caffeine and productivity. We never buy clothes, thanks to her incredible knitting prowess.

Before you start getting worried about who takes care of our kids, let me calm your fears. We practice “Free-range Parenting.” That’s right; our children take care of themselves. We homeschool, and they fend for themselves. My kids learn more from the Disney Channel than they would in college.

I will admit we have groceries scheduled for delivery every Sunday, so food is provided. Every Saturday, we have cleaners come to wipe away a week's worth of our creative survival mode. We’ve thought of everything.

The harness with a desk attached makes it easy to go out for walks while writing. Writer friends talk about how they get inspiration during their walks. Well, I get to walk, get ideas, and write them immediately. In fact I send them to the cloud with Siri for when I get home. The cloud doesn’t care where I am. You shouldn’t either.

I’m a full-time writer, after all. This is the life I built and the one I choose to live. If I let up on the gas, I might lose it all. The only way to win is to keep adding and pushing harder.

Before you start getting worried about who takes care of our kids, let me calm your fears. We practice “Free-range Parenting.”

Everyone wants to be like me. They don’t have the fire to make it happen. These wannabe writers are lazy, unfocused. I know what it means to give your all for what you love.

Your passion.

If you can’t do what you love, every day, all day, then what’s the point of living? Those of you with weak wills full of fear know—you have what it takes to succeed. Put a razor-sharp focus on your goals and eliminate everything else. You will be rewarded with fame, fortune, and millions of words written a day.

With success comes more work and more hours of writing. You never know when someone will inch up behind you and take your spot.

Don’t let them pass.

My last and final goal is to discover how to write three 600 word articles every hour for 24 hours with original illustrations. Anyone can do Unsplash. I want people to link to my stories when they use my art. I will get there, mark my words.

Top that, losers.

Overwhelmed Dad Prays for One Minute Alone

Photo by Jaclyn Moy on Unsplash

Dear God,

I know the world is going through a tough time right now, with the pandemic and everything, but I’m desperate for more time alone. Not alone forever, I enjoy being with my wife and two out-of-control kids, some of the time. Maybe an hour a day would be helpful? A few hours or even one week would be ideal. Magical even. I may be losing my mind, so a little solitude would help get me back on track. 

There’s just no time to breathe or even think. To find time to get on my knees and talk to you means I’m on the floor in the bathroom right now, after crying in the shower. You see, I’m what they call an introvert. Too much social time with others drains me. I need time alone to recharge. Now that I can’t escape to the office and my wife never goes anywhere anymore, I’m drowning in needy family members and bickering children. When do I get a break?

That’s where you come in, God. I could use a miracle—the parting of the red sea kind. It’s been a hectic year of forced homeschooling for my two elementary school-aged kids. They could care less about distance learning or Zoom classes. They just want to watch YouTube, play video games, and eat candy. I don’t blame them. The schools expect my little children to get work done and make my wife and me, both working from home, keep them on task. Do you think they’re getting work done?

Hell, no! 

Sorry, Lord. I meant, heck no. When I try to get them to complete their assignments, they run away from me screaming. All while I’m on a meeting with a stakeholder and making PB&J sandwiches so they won’t be “hangry.” 

I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t even breathe well at night. When I try to sleep, I’m hyperventilating and doing my best to calm down—thinking about relaxing on some beach somewhere alone. 

Alone. It sounds like such a romantic word now. No one asking me for anything or talking non-stop about some ridiculous animated TV show. Just peace and quiet. Doing what I want when I want. Not for forever, for just a little while. A few weeks, maybe?

My wife keeps telling me we can’t afford for one of us to quit our jobs and take care of everything at home, but I wonder. Is my sanity worth the salary I make? We have other friends whose wives have quit and have become at-home co-teachers for their children. Everything looks more manageable for them. It probably isn’t. 

I don’t know of any Dads doing it. Should I be the first? Of course, that won’t get me the solitude I’m craving. I’ll have to take care of my kid’s schooling every minute of the day. I’m having trouble breathing just thinking about it. 

What’s that you say? Take a sabbatical, God? Is that the answer? A few months off from work. I would need to go somewhere else for it to be effective, though. Rent an AirBnB and live alone for six months. Just reading, catching up on all the shows I’ve missed, and taking time to meditate. Paradise! 

No, you’re right. That’s selfish. Don’t I deserve a whole year to myself? I would miss my family, but eventually, isn’t it ok if they know I’m coming back? I could visit them on the weekends. Wait, this sounds like a trial separation. No, thanks. 

I’d better stick it out. It’s better to be a man and endure even if it costs me my sanity. 

Thanks for listening, Lord. I know you’ve given me the strength to withstand anything. Even drowning in responsibilities with no acceptable way out. I can do this. Who cares that I’m hearing voices in my head and feeling dizzy from vertigo every evening.   

This will all be over soon, right?

Right?