Just a quick update: this morning I’ve turned the corner on 75,000 words for my novel. It hasn’t been easy, and honestly I’ve had to fight and scrap for much of the last 25k. I’m proud of my achievement so far and the closer that I get to the finish line the happier I am to have pushed myself to achieve, whether or not this book ever sees the light of day.
I don’t want to jump too much ahead of myself here but I think I may be able to finish my first draft by the new year or earlier. My plan after that is a month off to work on some other projects and then coming back to start heavily editing in February. Some sniveling little part of my mind says, “artists don’t plan, they just create, planning is dumb.” And to that I have to say, “quiet you, I wouldn’t have made it this far without some planning,” followed up by, “since when did you ever claim to be an artist anyways?”
There is another reason that I feel extra-proud of what I’ve achieved today and one that I’m a little reticent to mention. For the first time in my life I’ve managed to keep myself working on a creative project through one of the most debilitating bouts of depression I’ve experienced. I wish I could say I knew what the secret was this time versus all the other times that my projects have been thrown off and permanently shuttered. The truth is, I don’t know. Maybe it’s from having some really supportive people in my life, maybe it was my ninja pj’s. Right now, I’m just glad it’s working and I look forward to reassessing this period to try to identify it. But that comes later. For now, I continue to write. And wear goddam ninja pj’s.