I’ll Admit it, I Have No Self Control

There’s no point in hiding the fact that I can’t stay away from the internet for 12 hours let alone an entire weekend. My tweets gave me away at a frighteningly early time today.

So, I may as well add a little post to my list of phone and internet transgressions. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

It was a really great day, all in all. I fell about 2,000 words short of my goal tonight so that means it’ll be a bit of a push tomorrow BUT on the other hand, I won’t need to do any cooking since I made enough stir fry to last me until February (I blame the giant cast iron pot I got for Christmas. It’s awesome but I can fit waaaay too much food in it for one person.). So, having my meals taken care of for the day and I’ll be sure to unplug my modem AND hide my phone for tomorrow it should be much smoother sailing.

I got about 8,000 words done in about 10 hours of writing. Not the greatest but at the same time I’m not working from any kind of outline and as new characters appear I have to think of names off the cuff. I’d love to try working from an outline some time and see how much more efficient it will make me because I can tell you right now there are moments when all I hear is wind whistling in my ear and the Jeopardy song on a loop but when I’m lucky enough to catch on and find my stride, my poor little fingers can’t keep up and they start vibrating with stress. It’s certainly not an even pace.

I’m currently under half way to where I should be at this point in the month and that scares me. I really do want to finish this novel. There were moments today when I completely lost interest and wondered to myself what I was thinking when laying around watching movies interspersed with playing with the dog seemed much more attractive than allowing my bum to get dimply as I wrote and grew cellulite.

But I stuck with it. I had dance parties.

I took breaks and played tug of war with the dog. I had snacks of crackers and humus. I even took the dog out to the hallway for some zoomies. I took full advantage of the wild, wintery day today and rolled out of bed, had a solid breakfast of eggs, bacon AND porridge then filled up on my favourite tea and wrote.

My character has gone through losses. She’s fighting battles she hasn’t yet even realized she’s fighting. There’s a story arc and I think I’ve finally gotten a tenuous grasp on flow, structure and plotting a novel. Perhaps it could be a gem one day but for now it’s a flat, one-dimensional story about a girl, poorly written with almost all telling and very little showing. And please don’t ask me about my use of tenses. We already know how super awesome I am at that.

I was hung up about these flaws and my writerly insecurities began popping up like little popcorn nuggets of doubt and worry but I swallowed those little beasties with the realization that I’m writing for myself and no one will be reading this unless I physically give it to them. Do you know how empowering that is?

I can write about the bad stuff- the truly awful, make-your-heart-bleed and punch-a-SOB-in-the-face kind of stuff and no one may never know. I can send my character through all kinds of torture if I feel that’s the story that needs to be expressed but I don’t need to put anyone but myself through the ordeal of it unless I honestly want to share it.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow and the hours and hours of really bad writing I have planned. I want to find out what happens with my character. I want to know whether the big reveal will happen sooner in the book, thus forcing her to even higher heroic heights or whether it will be a dramatic plot twist saved for the end. I’m starting to get a feel for how my characters relate and some back story is filling in and this is exhilarating.

This is why I write. 

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