4573


It is February, aka Month of Suck, and it is Monday, and it is morning, and these are three things that I am typically not fond of.
 
But I am remarkably chipper today.
 
I wrote 4573 words yesterday!
 
That is the most words I have ever written in one day. In fact, I think it’s probably twice as many words as I’ve ever written in one day.
 
I set a goal to write a rough draft of my new WIP before my birthday (May 3). To accomplish this, I set baby goals of writing 20,000 words each month. Yesterday morning I was still 4300 words away. I wasn’t sure I could do it. Steve said, That’s a lot of words. Don’t feel bad if you don’t make it.
 
That was just what I needed to hear. There’s nothing that spurs me on more than someone hinting, no matter how supportively, that they don’t think I can do it. I was all-fired determined. I started writing around 5 p.m. and wrote until 2 a.m. Steve made me dinner and brought me English Breakfast tea because he is the bestest husband. Monkey provided snuggles and only blinked at me disparagingly a few times when I dared to move and disturb his kitty-mama pillow. I’d write 1000 words or so in Write or Die (which is really helpful in overcoming my inner perfectionist, who wants to keep going back over the same 2 sentences) and then take a Twitter break and read blogs about the Amazon fail. Then I’d edit what I just wrote. And then I’d write the next 1000 or so words. Rinse and repeat.
 
And I did it! I wasn’t sure I could but I did!
 
They are even good words…I think. I have sent the new chapter to my alpha readers for confirmation. Do you have alpha readers? I didn’t know what to call them before I read this post, but I have two. My best friend Jenn, high school English teacher extraordinaire, reads each chapter as I finish. She cheers me on and tells me what she loves and what she can’t wait to see more of. Knowing that she is waiting for the next chapter spurs me on. My brilliant playwright husband is the other alpha, and he reads a tad more critically; I often sit across the room anxiously trying to remember how to breathe while he reads. He lets me know when there is a logic-fail or when something’s not working and he gives the occasional backhanded compliment ("I like this guy. He’s not a douche at all."). But in this case? He keeps telling me that he loves the new book. Unabashedly loves it better than Garolass.
 
I am really happy today. How are you?

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