I’ve got this.
I’m a sprint-to-the-finish away from completing my book. Just over a week of hitting my daily goals, and I am done with the damn thing. It’ll be my first rough draft finished that I know is close to DONE done, that’s not an interminable project of rewriting and pulling my hair out and despairing that I think I’ve lost my mojo.
I have my mojo.
I just need to finish the damn thing.
I went to bed too late last night. That was frustrating. It was frustrating to lose today as a result. I didn’t have to, but I did. I did some “project” stuff instead. I got my Netflix work done, which was necessary…
It’s such a hectic time right now. It’s easy for resistance to win the day and distract me with other things to do, because there is so much shit that needs to be done. Legitimate stuff to get done. But, that stuff doesn’t have to be done at the expense of writing. Uuuggghhhhh.
But, here I am in bed right now at the right time. Finally. I need to stick to this. Religiously. For the next week and a half. If I do that, my book will be fucking finished. I’ll have lived up to my promise to myself to do it, and to my cowriter for writing it. And I’ll be able to move on, either to writing the next book, or to doing some level of rewrite on the one I’ve just finished.
It’s always so hard to finish. I know I’ll be sitting here next week thinking about that. It’s always so much more effort than you think. But, it’s exciting to be so close. And resistance knows that. It’s putting everything it has on stopping me. But here’s the thing…
I can’t be stopped. Not any more. Not with this draft. I’m too close, now. Everything resistance is doing right now is in vain.
I do know that.
That’s probably why the failure to write these past several days has been so frustrating. I’ve indulged in a dying gasp of the forces trying to stop me.
Not tomorrow, bitches.
Tomorrow, we ride.
*write
Night.