Sunday night, I felt something I’d never felt before. As a writer, I know the process and work that goes into penning a novel to completion is a long and complicated journey. Many ups and downs, twists, and turns, but I felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of unpreparedness as I stared at the work I’d put in, and by how much I had left.
“It won’t even be done then,” I muttered. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Today’s Tuesday, and I’m still struggling with the doubts. A Hot Day Down South has become a royal pain in my keister. The sequence is all out of order, my notebook has notes jotted down and is not discernible where it goes in the story, and I’m flustered, flummoxed, and bamboozled.
It’s just after 0500, and if I had any hair left, I’d rip it out by the handfuls. Across three computers are the beginnings, middles, and ends of my story. And I am battling the emotion to take all three outside and use them for target practice, but I won’t. Because even after I’ve shot them to pieces, I’ll still have this story inside me-eating away at my guts.
So, I’m gonna keep writing. Starting over, doing it repeatedly until it’s completed. I won’t finish it today, but I will finish it. Before I go lock myself in my library, I’d like to encourage those who find themselves where I am today.
Keep going. We’ve got this. This is just part of the process. Once we get past the first novel, the second should come easier, and before we know it, we’ll all be ‘professional writers.’ Or something like it.
You guys have a wonderful day and be safe out there. If you need me, I’ll be camped out in my library looking for the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.