I had my head down writing and when I looked up I was lost. True! There is just so much. It’s all organized into scenes and chapters but I see the word count goal I had and I see that I’m about to blow past it and I have a crisis of confidence: what in the heck is my story about again?
And really, the hurdle I am trying to get past is one of surrender. I have to surrender whatever idea I have about what this is going to be, and just cling to what it is. What it is – a daily project where I get up, write a certain number of words (or more), and then go about the rest of my day. Repeat. I can’t do the future-tripping thing of thinking about what this will be or what I expect it to be or what I am afraid it might be.
Because it could just be for me. It could just be for my kids. Or it could just be for that one person out there who really needed whatever it is that I have been pouring my heart out to create for the past six months.
None of that should matter. Until I write the final word in this draft, the one after which I realize, hey, it is finished now, I can’t think about anything else except putting one foot in front of the other.