In case you didn’t notice, I went from being a pretty prolific writer to…well, not. I’ve had reasons and excuses. Some valid, most not. In the end, it was mostly a case of believing I’d do it later or not staying focused on a plot. In March, I committed to getting Mr. Darcy’s Bluestocking Bride out by June.
That didn’t happen. So then I said I’d finish the draft by June.
That also didn’t happen. Because I just thought I’d get “lucky” and randomly have time to do it and the cosmos would align, and the words would come together.
Last week, I snapped. I was GETTING IT DONE, DARN IT!
I shut my bedroom door and locked it. My mom and husband could deal with the kids. I spent a whole week writing/researching/editing/writing, writing, writing.
I was down to the last three chapters, and while I wanted to take a break so very desperately, I doubled down again. I would finish the story by Saturday, June 17.
On Thursday, I couldn’t sleep because I was so anxious to get it done. I wrote from 2:30 to 5:30 am in addition to all the writing during the day. On Friday, I stayed up and wrote until 4 am. I closed the day out at having written 17,236 words in 26 hours.
I HUSTLED. And a book baby will be born at the beginning of July.
Luck didn’t do it. Hustling did. Got a goal? Hustle for it!
Now, I’m just exhausted and don’t know what do with not obsessing over this story, lol!