The next blog challenge I’m participating in asks us to come up with a schedule for our projects. Just a week’s worth of time, accounted for and set aside for writing.
It’s a good thing the challenge said I can be vague about my scheduling because 1) I have two children of different ages (almost 3 and almost 11) so their schedules are pretty whack, and 2) I have multiple sclerosis so some days I can concentrate, others I can’t. Some days I can get out of bed, other days I can’t.
Another problem with trying to schedule is that I have to spend time with my family. We have movie marathons which take up three hours of my day at least, and putting my toddler to bed is a two hour affair on its own. I simply do not have the time to schedule. I write when I can, squeezing in at least an hour a day, yes, but precisely when that hour occurs is a mystery only to be solved once the day is done.
What I can do, however, is promise to write every day. If I do not feel up to the significant challenge of wrapping up my first draft of my novel, I can promise to write at least one 100-word story. The collection of short stories that I’ve been working on for three years is nowhere near completed, so it would be good for me to work on it, even just one or two stories a week.
The reward for writing every day will be the fact that I wrote every day. Eventually, it will be that I reached a milestone: finished the first draft, finished the second draft, finished revisions, submitted to agents, etc. I think the sense of accomplishment will be reward in itself. For me to finally be able to say, yes, I’ve written a book.
Thank you for reading. Here is a 100-word story to make it worth your time.
Furiously tapping out words on her keyboard, she knew she’d probably have to edit out most of them later. Writing is a process, she tells herself. It’s okay if it isn’t perfect at first.
Then another part of her scolds herself for thinking her writing would ever be perfect at all. You’re not Hemingway or Austen, she berates the part of herself that dared to dream.
No, she silently replies. But the stories in my head are worth telling. If no one else is grateful for them, I will be grateful to myself for having written them.
It’s good enough.
©2018 Heather Stephens