I powered through it today. All of it. The last two chapters.
And the first draft of my first novel is complete. I think I’m downright giddy.
It brought to mind something I once wrote about leeches. It hurt a little doing it, except for knowing that it was good for me. And that instant that it was done was pretty much euphoric. Then, after a couple of hours of reveling in the glee of being done, I realized that I just lost 57,202 words that used to be in my head. (I kind of think that’s equivalent to a few pints of blood.)
I literally woke up and went straight from the bed to the computer.
Oh! I had set a deadline for myself of yesterday, and I was pretty disappointed in myself that I did not meet it. But I had an opportunity to do something else on Thursday, and it threw my scheduling off a bit. When I saw my friend Michael last night, he said to me that it simply meant that I was not meant to be done yesterday. It provided some amount of solace, I suppose. But, I digress.
I sat and wrote with a cup of coffee until it started to hurt a little.
The process was basically 45 minutes of writing, 10 minutes of reading (Tattoos on the Heart, which will be an entirely different post at some point), and 5 minutes of re-filling coffee or rinsing more fruit to eat.
The cycle repeated for about 5 hours until I realized that my cat was probably going to scratch my eyes out if I didn’t go buy him food. So, I took an hour or so break to do that, and came right back to writing.
Except for that last part of it, I didn’t want to take any breaks. I wrote for the last hour and forty-five minutes straight.
It was an awesome process. And I said last night as I was talking about it that the process alone was so worthwhile to me that I could be thrilled if nothing ever happened with it. My friend told me to really think about those words and not to sell the story or myself short.
I like that advice.
You see, the writing of this came at an important time for me. It’s been a huge catharsis. It’s been a realization of something that I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. And coinciding with other life difficulties, it’s been an amazing process. I met a writer who said the hardest thing about writing for him is that he can only write when he’s happy. And I know I definitely fell into that trap sometimes during the past three months.
All in all, it was a pretty awesome day.
I’m very tired, though. I was just talking to my dad, and I could hear the excitement in my own voice. And he said to me, “You didn’t rest at all this week.” I laughed a little. I think I well-exceeded a 40-hour work week. Oh well. At least I know that if it can continue to happen, I can enjoy it.