I just stood over my computer, which was plugged in assuming it was asleep for the night, for at least five to seven seconds. I had to get back on the horse. Dear Diary, I haven’t blogged in a few days and I am afraid I am losing momentum. There’s only one way to change that. Write something. One of the only ways to make a habit stick is to actually do it. Sounds so simple, but there are so many times we “should” all over ourselves and never really get around to actually doing anything. So here I am.
I am looking forward to Sunday. On Sunday, I am meeting for the first time with two other girlfriends who also like writing and are looking for motivation. We have disparate writing influences and inspiration. But, I think tackling my blogging habit (enhancing the habit, rather than kicking it) in this writing group should be my focus. These girls will keep me on point. One of them committed to writing a post a day for a year and she’s doing it. She’s about 200 posts in. So I am sure I could learn a thing. And at least I will be admitting my goals to someone outside myself, which will help keep me accountable.
Another writing-related meeting I have this weekend is with my lovely prolific dear friend Courtney Sheinmel. She’s going to give me feedback on the first part of my second novel. I received feedback from Miranda earlier this week. It’s always sort of challenging to get feedback but I think there are stages to it, like the stages of grief. First you resist it (even though you asked for it.) You reject it. You get defensive. Then you start to see the comments’ merits. Then you see how you can implement them. Then you feel empowered i.e. “This is going to be so much better after I make these changes!”
I am charging ahead in my draft, rapidly approaching a solid 40,000 word manuscript. I’ve got to get it to at least 50,000 to feel okay about its length. Not sure where I got that from. NaNoWriMo? 65,000 is ideal, I think. Not sure if this is going to be that long. I do have some beefing up to do in the beginning. Anything is possible. Time will tell. (Whenever I write that phrase, one that my mother particularly enjoys, I always feel like launching into a litany of clichés. I am restraining myself.)