Yes, I know. I normally post this kind of victory lap the very minute I cross the finish line.
But to be honest, I really needed to not see a word processor for a few days after that last push. It came down to the wire, and if it were not for my amazing boyfriend staying up all night and pumping me full of chocolate, coffee, and supportive vibes, I am sure finishing would have been so much more painful than it already was. There were times, even when I realized that there were only two thousand words left to go, that I wasn’t so sure I would make it at all.
But I did it. Because honestly, there was no other option for me. I have made this promise to myself that I will finish every novel. That I will challenge myself, and I will prevail every time.
Even if it leaves me so tired I end up sleeping for almost fifteen hours the first day I have off. Which I did.
This month was hard. Not only because I wrote a total of 75,000 words because of work on the facehugger novel, but because I decided to blog the fiction, which meant that things had to go slightly in order and be readable.
Also, I really did write the novel to learn something. I’ve realized that without oodles of time to muddle through cleaning and taking care of my life, I really have no skill nor any idea of how to clean. That was how the idea of domesticatedpixie.wordpress.com was born. And everything I post on there related to house care or cooking, I did this month. I tried it out to make sure it worked and I could write about it. And wonder of wonders, after all the research, I have a clean house. I even know how to keep it clean.
And when I manage to getting the rest of the novel posts up, you might too. When I realized that I was too far behind to think too much, I put the posting of articles aside for a while to give myself some breathing room.
I had too much writing to do to let anything slow me own, least of all what I was writing.
I don’t want anyone following along here to think that what I’m accomplishing is great for me, but they could never have the time to churn out the words needed to finish after falling behind.
Neither did I. My life is structured around writing, but if it ever will be in conflict for my time, it is when the word count is anemic. In this last week, not only did I write 30,000 plus words, but I also had three hour-long martial arts classes, dinner with my dad, dinner with friends, several early morning meetings with insurance adjusters to wrap up my auto accident, and the normal work/drive/shop/eat/bathe parts of life to care for.
I’m not superwoman, I just know where my towel is. (Ask your nearest geek if you don’t understand this.) And how much caffeine my body can tolerate. And I also know that if I’d quit, I would never have been able to get it back – the loss would haunt me. So I pushed on to be proud instead.
And I keep waiting for the epiphany for this month, the big spiritual or philosophical wrap up that I can turn around and give anyone who is listening, but in truth it’s just that you work. You work hard, and you work tired, and you piss off people who say they want you to quit and pay attention to them instead, and you get tired and eat too much and drink too much and whatever else you have to do to finish your goal.
And you finish your goal.
Then, you take a fucking break.
And before you really think you are ready to begin again, you begin again.
See you all tomorrow. It’s time to start novel number six.