So. In November I managed just over 60,000 words for NaNoWriMo. I was proud of myself. I knew that another 30,000 words would finish the novel. Then came December, Christmas, New Year and family. All good reasons not to get on with it. But early January, that was over and done with. By the end of January, the novel would be finished. But no. Not even remotely done.
I’ve been reading in all sorts of places about the ‘dark monkey’ of procrastination. The devil of procrastination. I know I’m doing it. I get another 1 or 2k words done and it’s over with for a week. My characters are doing their own thing too, going off in directions I hadn’t planned on. May I add I think they’ve got it right. But knowing I’m procrastinating and doing something about it is very, very hard. My good friend and writing buddy Marison Dunham has been helping. She comes over, I get work done. She’s a bright spark in my writing day. But she leaves and I go right back to the ‘I’ll get into it tomorrow’ phase.
Yes, I know. Discipline. Something I’ve always had trouble with. You see, I know the ending… sort of. Or do I? As I said, my characters are doing strange things. Am I afraid of them? Of what they want me to write? I think the answer is yes. Also I think I’m afraid to finish this because it might be rubbish. I’m not really sure anyone would want to read it. But then, is that why I write? For others? If I’m honest, the answer to that is maybe.
I guess I want it all done and over with … now. Not tomorrow, next month but now. I can’t seem to wait to go through the process of actually finishing it. Or is that just another excuse?
Doldrums. No wind and the writing boat is floating in a sea of insecurity.
Thanks for listening. Now it’s out there. Guess I’ll have to do something about it.
PS: Anyone got a whip?