I’m sitting in a Starbuck’s editing with some writer friends today. I love it. Being with other people who share my passion is wonderful.
A new author joined us today, and I got to read her story for the first time. I’ve been hearing about her work for a couple of weeks now, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was impressed. Then she told me she has been working on it for three years. My heart dropped.
Three years on one book is a long time. Now it is a beautiful piece of work, and I would love to get to her level, but I don’t have three years. I have eight months left to get this published, or at least start making money on my writing.
My clock is ticking.
The time limit sits in the back of my mind every day. It can either be a motivating factor, or a huge monkey on my back that kicks my anxiety level up to mach 10. Does the time limit motivate me?
But it also scares me. What if my time limit comes up and I’m not done. What do I do then? Do I beg my husband for more time? Do I go back to being a designer, and work at it on freelance basis? Do I go get my teachers certificate and take a job? Do I hope the novel is finished and E-publish it just to make money?
If I E-publish I give up on my dream of being on the book shelves among my favorites. Would I feel like I have let myself down? I’m not sure at this point. I guess I will figure it all out when the time comes.
And until the time comes I will continue to plug away every day, just to make it perfect. Just to finish it!