I did it. My dirty draft is done.
And I cannot believe it.
There have always been things to get in my way during NaNoWriMo. But the real truth, I think, is that I was in my way. I was the one who chose to not write, for whatever reason.
On this blog, I’ve mentioned Stephen King a lot. (In fact, I mention him in my alien book.) Anyway, King writes. There are no excuses. Maybe the only time in his career that he didn’t pen his allotted number of words (2000 per day), was when he was nearly killed after being hit by a minivan.
But what do I know? Maybe he did write. (I’m gonna read up on that. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.)
My friend Scott Rhoades has been writing, every single day, for more than 500 days. Even if he’s distracted. Even if he’s tried. Even if his day is long. There are no excuses.
What I am saying is, writers write.
Or we’re just dreamers.
And you know the people who want to write a book but can’t find the time. Or are too old. Or who have too many kids. Or Or Or.
I’ve been there.
Writing is hard and I am ALWAYS filled with excuses. (A long time ago, a psychiatric nurse said to me, “I know I need therapy. My childhood was the $h!t$. But I’ll never do it. It’s too hard.” While it’s certainly not on the same scale, I get that feeling about writing. I know the middle is coming. It scares me every time. I’d rather not go there. I want to do something easier.)
But this time I worked through the scary part.
And you’re doing it, too.
Keep going. Counting today, you have only Ten. Days. Left.