Thursday, April 2, 2015

The Midway Point

This past Saturday there was a write-in and I wrote. 12 hours of bleary-eyed writers, writing and editing and jabbering about writing when the fingers didn't want to work anymore. And there was food. That glorious nourishment some writers forget to do, because..well...they're writing. It rained that day. The first real rain of spring in Calgary. Couldn't have asked for a better day to be buried inside, lost in the words of our respective stories.

In that 12 hours, I wrote a little over 2600 words. Finished a scene in the novel that I really wanted to get through. I did it. Yay, me. Though compared to others who wrote, I came in somewhere in the middle as far as word count was concerned. Some of those writers have lightening fast fingers and pumped out more than 10,000 words.

Holy crap! That's about all I could say.

Wait a sec, let's go back a touch. I started this particular novel in February. Somewhere in the middle of the month, maybe. I can't quite be certain of the exact date. I committed to writing about 1000 words a day. Some days were better than others. So in almost two months, I can comfortably say I'm almost half-way through the first draft. As of today!

Half-way. It's hard to comprehend. And then there's this thing...this subconscious part of me that suddenly stalls right around this point. Maybe that's why I'm writing this. Because I want to make sure I am aware that I know what I typically do in an attempt to do something completely atypical of me. It's like saying, "hey you, I see you and I know who you are, so snap out of it and stop feeling sorry for yourself and just write the damned thing."

I want to believe it will be different this time. I have to learn not to be too hard on myself too. If I go a day and don't write, so what? If I write only one sentence, so what? If I take a break and read a book, so what?

I think about whether I might lose interest in my character, have the energy leak from the story until it goes stagnant. These are my worries. And I'm maybe not alone and I'm maybe just spouting bullshit and I should just keep writing. Keep going. Don't worry. Write and let the rest sort itself out.

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