Today was not a good day.
Yesterday I reached the NaNoWriMo goal of 50 000 words, but my novel isn’t done yet. I’ve got a couple weeks of writing left. I’m trying to get to the end of the second act by Tuesday and then I’m in the home stretch.
I don’t know if it was reaching the 50 000 word milestone, or that I started second guessing my work, but the words came hard today, and I’m not sure that any of the 1 700 words I wrote will make it into the rewrite. The dialogue was choppy, the scenes seemed unnatural, and I just wanted it all to be over. I’m sitting with the feeling that the police interrogation scenes will be my eternal Waterloo.
Bad days happen. Bad days are why it’s taken me five years to get this thing done in the first place, and my first instinct is and probably will always be to quit now, before I invest another second into this horrible, awful, no-good, very bad story. Or at least until I sit down with a police officer and get details on realistic interrogations. There is always that ever-present temptation to hide from the plot in research.
But that’s what the rewrite is for. What is important now is finding the end. I’m just now starting to give myself permission to just get there. Intellectually I know that decline in quality in this moment won’t even be evident after I’ve spent some time reworking it. After I’ve tracked down a cop willing to tell me what would happen if a person confessed to a murder he knew she didn’t commit. This is not a draft that a single eye will see. In my heart, my words matter already, and seeing them come out clunky and broken feels like I just pushed my daughter into a mud puddle. On purpose.
There are bad days. Really bad days. Just push the words out, close your computer, put down your pen, and steel yourself for tomorrow. Because you will get there. You will find the end. And so will I.