On February 6, 2010, I started writing a novel. Now ten months later, I am still writing the same novel. I finally have corked the craving to scrap my draft and go back to the way beginning, and now have committed to this current version. Every few days I want to start over. I find myself stuck in a scene and I decide that it isn't good enough--this is not the next best seller! True, this draft probably is not the next best seller. And perhaps this novel is not ever going to be the next best seller. (Who am I kidding? Of course it is). Regardless, this is the draft that needs to have a beginning, middle, and end.
I am officially marking down my words -- signing myself into my own contract -- declaring that by February 6, 2011 this novel will be finished. One year to the date. It sets a goal, keeps me motivated, and discourages the act of starting over or deleting huge chunks just because I feel like it.
I have two months:
December and January
I am going to greet winter and the Christmas season with hot cocoa, cozy socks, gift wrapping, and writing of epic proportions.
That gives me exactly two months from today to take my half finished book to its completion.
Two months to write about 60,000 words.
Two months to come up with an ending.
Two months to pour out all of my blood, sweat and tears into my masterpiece.
Two months to discover a title.
Two months until I write the words the end -- or more likely -- to be continued.
Two months.
xoxo
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