I have never written so furiously before. My fingers have not flown on a keyboard like this in years. It feels good. It’s liberating. It’s amazing how pushing yourself to write a little every day keeps those creative juices flowing.
The ideas have been flooding me and I can’t seem to get them out of my fingers and on to the keyboard fast enough. Why, then, am I so far behind on my goal of 50,000 words by the end of November?
I suppose Life happens. I suppose having a holiday in the mix didn’t help either. I am going to hit that 50,000 word goal. I like this story. It may not be anything earth-shatteringly new but I like it. It’s fun and it creeps me out. Hopefully it will creep other people out too.
I need to finish it and re-work some of it. I haven’t felt this confident about anything I’ve ever written, even if I still secretly feel like it doesn’t live up to the standard I would like to see myself at (there’s the perfectionist in me rearing her hideously disfigured face).
Even if it’s not up to my personal standard, at least in four days I will be able to say that I wrote 50,000 words, the average length of a novel. With any luck, I will be able to say it in 3 more days!
Then the real fun begins. Fixing plot holes, re-writing scenes so they make more sense, checking continuity. Then, I may just try to submit it to a few publishing houses. What the hell right? I want to wall-paper my craft room with rejection notices and then hang the framed acceptance letter on top of them. I’ll take a picture of it and pin it on Pinterest, it could become the newest design trend for struggling published writers.