Approximately five minutes ago I crossed the finish line in my novel writing project. As of 2:40 this afternoon, the final word tally is 50,173. How does it feel? Wonderful! Wonderful that I actually did it. Wonderful that it’s over.
I’d had a story noodling around in my head for years, and it probably would still be noodling there if I hadn’t agreed to participate in No Plot, No Problem. Any kernel of a story that’s hung around this long deserves examination, but I had never been able to sit down and begin.
When I freelanced for a living, I never missed a deadline. What this taught me is that I’m really good when someone else imposes a writing deadline on me, but I’m miserable at keeping self-imposed ones. I’m not proud to say this behavior is prevalent in other areas of my life as well. Such as losing five pounds by a certain date. Or getting my taxes done on a given weekend. In both these instances, I accomplished the goals by joining a weight loss bet or making the annual appointment with my accountant.
For now, I plan to put my work away – let it perc, so to speak – and then return to see if any of the thousands of words deserve editing. Of course, I’ll have to find some external motivating factor to begin this next phase. If there’s any publisher out there who’d like to help by offering me a review of my work by a certain deadline, please raise your hand.
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