Missing the deadline to complete the second draft of my novel, I am disappointed in myself. But by exposing my failure to the world (or to the readers of this blog), I am hoping to shame myself into finishing.
It’s not working.
The first draft was decent, but editing reveals its flaws. Now I hate the premise and I’m feeling nauseous about the possibility of not finishing.
I take a break and go for a walk. As I make my way along Helmcken Street, I see these words etched on a clay tile:
“delete, reset, defrag, the mind recoils”
I jot the words down in my notebook and make my way back home to my computer.
My brain is reset, and yes, I will finish it.
But a new issue arises: will the novel be worth reading? Will anyone invest the time to read it?
I distract myself again.
Enjoying the process of writing without torturing myself is another goal that I am trying to achieve. I come back to the running analogy. As running can be painful, boring and relentless, so can writing (but with less sweat dripping in my eyes). Wishing it would end, but so happy to have done it.
And yet, it becomes the best kind of challenge imaginable. Overcoming a challenge is rewarding, but a book in my hand is even better.
I am motivated.