Wait, did I already say that on Friday mornings, at 4:30am, I am so tired I can barely see straight?
It's true -- by the end of the week, my FYEE Wake-Up Time is totally kicking my ass, and I'm shuffling to the coffee maker, shuffling to my desk, waiting for the caffeine to help turn the lights on in my head.
But I do it anyway.
And so today I'm delighted that even though what I wrote may well be utter crap that I edit to death come December, I managed another 1,760 words today, bringing my total to past 25,000.
25,000 words is 87.5 pages!
That is freaking CRAZY. I have never written so much in my entire life. Never!
This is harder in some ways than any of my other little commitments I've made to myself over the years, harder than most everything on my annual list of resolutions.
But also, endlessly more satisfying.
Because it makes me feel like, finally, I'm doing it.
I'm doing the thing I'm supposed to be doing, no matter what happens next. I'm finally buckling down and giving it this Herculean effort, trying to bring something to light.
It's funny to be writing this today, on the 26th anniversary of bringing an enormous 9-pound baby to light (Happy Birthday, honey!), since yeah, that was real hard work.
Except for the fact that it was ONLY twelve hours of hard.
What I'm doing now is 30 days of hard labor.
So yeah, it's harder than my experience of childbirth. With labor, you can't bail. It's happening no matter what. Here, with NaNoWriMo, I have to get myself up and make myself do it. Every single day.
At the end, I'll have that paper-baby in my arms, finally.
It's been a long gestation, that's for sure. I hope the baby's not a freak. ;>
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