Chagrin

I chose this picture because it reminds me both of my primal frustration and of my goal.

This WILL happen regardless of the obstacles (outside-or-self-imposed).

With much chagrin*, I am admitting, reaching 50K edited words by 11:59pm on November 30th is a bit iffy.

This is not an admission of defeat, however. I will get this book finished up by the end of spring come hell? (Can I say that? I don't really mean hell. More like an "ain't no mountain high enough" kind of feeling.) or high water.

I've read (in a re-post/link over on Joanne's blog) that you're not supposed to confess your goals- when you do, your brain says, "ah, feels good to have checked that off the list", because your brain already imagines the finish line. Well, I scoff and ask, what exactly is supposed to lure us to said finish line if we don't imagine ourselves there?

When I was giving birth, I had to imagine the squirmy babe in my arms in order to get through the labor and delivery. It's worked for me so far, why stop now? Sure. I procrastinate, and find myself months behind where I expected to be- but- I can clearly see this book being done, and handing it over to someone whose task is to try (as hard as I have in writing) to get it published.

I won't have a NaNo victory this year. That's okay. There's always next year. November coming to an end does not mean the end of editing. I've reached about 30% of my goal- and I have a few months ahead of me in which I can finish the remainder. I'm going to keep my word count going so you can watch the progress, and boy howdy will we have a party come that day!

Am I feeling disappointed? Irked with myself? Irked with life's constant interruptions? Mad enough I could toss the computer through the window? Sure.

But the good news is, this isn't my story to tell. I'm just its steward. It's my job to make sure this novel doesn't get buried in a hole and covered with dirt, in hopes that when the master gets back, that it'll be okay that I was a just good babysitter. It's my job to make sure I do my best with what I've been given. That means my human-ness is all over this novel, but I know, in the deepest part of me, this story didn't start with me- and I know just as surely, this story won't end with me. Thank GOD!

Stick with me folks. It'll be a long journey, and I could use your company.

This week will be the official return to normal in our house, so blog life will resume it's happy pace soon.


*according to Merriam-Webster: disquietude or distress of mind caused by humiliation, disappointment, or failure <-- precisely!