I’ve had to compromise on my daily word count multiple times. First I slipped from 500 words a day to 500 words per weekday, taking weekends off. Then it was 500 words three days a week. Then 250 words.
Now if I get any words down at all during a day, I have to pat myself on the back.
Somehow I’ve managed to push the novel to 50,898 words.
Meanwhile, the house we bought is being completely rewired, most of the walls have had to come down and be replaced, the living room’s missing a ceiling, and I haven’t had a fully functioning bathroom for five days (we discovered a leak in the walls of the shower that meant we had to replace the whole thing: tub, surround and all).
Oh, and one of my root canals decided to fail after humming along quietly for ten years.
I’ve tried to tell myself that this’ll all pass soon, and I can tread water until things get back to normal.
But what if they don’t? What if this cascading series of crises is the normal? What if it lasts 3 months? 6? A year? Am I going to wait to finish till then? Am I going to hold back and make do when I don’t know what will happen next?
I don’t want to tread water. I want to take what I’m going through and pour it into the book, to turn these failures into something successful.
I don’t have any control of what part of the house — or me — falls apart next. I can’t even control my schedule enough to have a regular writing time anymore. But I can push myself to write every chance I get, to use marlapaige’s suggestion and write on my phone, write in my notebook, write anywhere and everywhere. I can finish what I’ve started, and I don’t have to wait.