Today was a day of working on the book. I’m pretty sure I clocked in over 6,000 words. Yesterday was a little lighter with only about 3k. Tomorrow I have deadlines for paid assignments and last night I felt a little bit blocked because I kept thinking about those deadlines and how I should probably be working on them instead of writing the book.
I always feel a little bit guilty with my time, especially if someone else is offering to pay me for it. It’s hard to remember that writing the book is working on my dream, and writing the paid assignments is what pays my ex-wife and lawyers. Which is always a joy.
Anyway, today was a 6k day. Not the 10k day I had a few days ago, but I’m covering ground. I’m closing in on the end of the book. But in the process I am beating the hell out of myself. Tonight, even though I am exhausted, emotionally and mentally, from writing the book, I am pissed off at myself that I couldn’t eke out just a little bit more.
Tomorrow is paid post day, and that will likely mean that I won’t be able to work on the book. So, I’ll feel guilty about that too. Just like I felt guilty today about working on the book and not writing posts that have deadlines coming up.
The work on the book tonight was not easy. The chapters were daring me to wave off and instead go to bed early, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to touch them tomorrow. I’m glad I got them written, but they were challenging. It’s hard leaving a little bit of your soul on the page like that. It takes a lot out of you.
One of my worst qualities is how tough on myself I am.
The other is selling myself short.
I’ve been debating for a while about the purpose this book will even serve. Why am I writing it? My excuse lately has been that the story demands that I tell it. But otherwise, I wonder what the point is. And even based on how things are going in the world, the end depends on things not being too much different than they are today. Since it takes place in almost ten years.
What will the world look like?
I have a feeling is uneasiness the way that writers faced the challenges of writing about NYC and mentioning sunset on the World Trade Center towers in 2010. A friend of mine told me that readers might think it is quaint to be so optimistic that the world wouldn’t have been through WW3 by the end of the book.
This book could be like a story that was written during the 1940s and never once mentions World War Two. I guess the Bogart and Bacall movie “The Big Sleep” kinda did that. Honestly, as much as I liked the film, the plot made no sense.
Maybe that will happen with this book too. The plot will make no sense. Oh well. I wrote today. That’s really all I wanted to do. Tomorrow will be writing for pay, doing dishes and laundry, and pretending like everything isn’t a complete mess.
What I do know is that people believe in me, for whatever reason. And I believe in this story, even though nobody else knows much about it. I’ve only shared a few chapters of it with others and they are polite with their feedback, but if they saw what this first draft has become, they might be wondering what the hell it is I’m doing with my life.
I wonder the same thing myself. Honestly.