So Close, Yet So Far Away…

I’m almost there guys. I’m about 100 pages away from finishing this novel. Let me rephrase that…I’m 100 pages away from finishing my second draft of this novel. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry, but I feel like crying. Let me explain.

Imagine you’re running a marathon. You hear the whistle blow, (considering I’ve never participated in a marathon, I imagine a whistle blowing, or someone in a loud voice yelling, “Go!” It’s probably more like the Olympics where a buzzer or gunshot goes off. But you get my drift people…) When you hear that whistle, (or gunshot, buzzer, screaming voice—take your pick) you fly off like a rocket. You feel your heart pumping, your muscles are getting warm—you’re cruising. This is what you’ve been training for—this feeling of exuberance at what your body can do. But after a few miles something happens. If you squint really hard you can see the finish line. But your legs are no longer warm, their burning, like a fire inside of your body is lit. Your heart is pumping, racing so fast you wonder, “Is this what a heart attack feels like?” And then it happens. You slow down. Or worse, stop altogether.

Why? There’s a million reasons why, but I can only give you this one—you’re doggone tired, that’s why!

I’ve been working on this novel for about six months now, (probably longer) and as I revise I’ve done major changes. I’ve changed character’s names. I’ve tweaked their personalities, changed their voice. I’ve turned villains into heroes and heroes into villains. I’ve scrapped beautiful yet boring scenes, thus moving the action along. This, my friends is not easy. Your brain feels fried, you wonder, “Have I ever worked this hard before?” Your mind is so full of information for your novel, that your short-term memory is stunted. What’s today’s date? What did I wear yesterday? Oh that’s right, I didn’t leave the house yesterday… You’ve zapped so much mental energy that your brain is begging for a break, it’s begging you, “Please just let me sit down! Veg out in front of the TV…Yes! An episode of Seinfeld is on! Now let me lie here and turn to mush…”

Case in point. One of my characters has an accident and breaks her wrist. Several chapters later I have her crocheting. What? So I had to decide to either scrap the crocheting all together, or change my character’s injury. What’s a girl to do? The crochet scenes were important and showed the growth that this particular character had gone through. But I needed to stay consistent, I couldn’t have my reader’s scratching their heads going, “Hey, she can’t crochet! Her wrist is broken!” Once your story loses plausibility, then down your readership goes. But my brain was tired. I’d already changed several scenes and couldn’t for the life of me rewrite another one. So I put a huge red question mark on those pages and stopped for the night.

That was Sunday. Yesterday, my novel sat on my living room floor—abandoned. So I took a deep breath. “Katrina, you can do this, you can finish!” After a few more pep talks, I picked up my red pen, reached deep down inside myself and…lied back down on the couch.

But hey, today’s a new day. And my novel will get revised. Like the runner, I took a pause but ultimately knew that I had to finish what I started. I was too close to the finish line to give up—like my Mama says, “Giving up ain’t even on the table, baby.”  I knew this process was going to be hard—I’m stretching myself in ways I haven’t done before. So yes, this brain of mine is burning, my heart is about to give out, but I will cross that finish line.