It’s been a busy month. I’ve really gotten my butt in gear re: my work in progress. I hit 50,000 words back in November for National Novel Writing Month, but with my first semester coming to a close and the holidays approaching, I only tinkered with the story here and there in December.
The past month, though, I managed to crank out another 30,000+ words! I’m at 85K right now and am getting ready to start wrapping things up.
A friend commented the other day that I must be so rigid with my time, and that I must be so motivated to be able to sit down and make myself write every day, with everything else going on – contractors working on the house (still!), a kid, school, etc.
But the truth is, there are some days where I don’t feel like it. I am just flat-out paralyzed by the thought of creating a new scene and moving my story forward. I worry that, because I’ll be that much closer to finishing, that I’m also that much closer to realizing how much the story sucks. That’s when I end up curling up on the couch with a book or Netflix.
But I still chip away at the story, little by little… A little here, a little there. I organize my notes and add thoughts to my outline and write a little bit more. And a little bit more. I start telling myself things like, “I’ll just get to the end of this scene and then I’ll go to bed.” Or, “Man, I hope #ToddlerGoodwin does a good nap today because I need to finish this chapter.”
You know, kind of how you might feel if you’re in the middle of reading a good book? That’s how I feel when I get sucked into my writing. That’s where I am now!
When I hit save, put the computer away, and make myself go to bed, I lie awake forever, plotting what I’m going to write the next day in my head. Except I’m not just imagining the setting and the characters and their actions – I’m trying out the words in my head. As if I’ll be able to remember them in the morning.
I try like hell, anyway.
Reading: The Antelope Wife – Louise Erdrich.
Listening: Divide – Ed Sheeran.