Up To My Wrists In Mire
As my fingers tap the keys, they seem to sink deeper and deeper into the mire of the story until finally my hands are buried wrist deep in it. But still I type. Words pour into the story. Clever words, of course, so clever that when I finally finish this first draft, I’ll hardly have any editing to do at all.
*Excuse me while I un-stick that exaggeration from my throat before I pass out from lack of oxygen*
I’m not even in the middle of the story, the usual slogging spot of a story. I’m past it and revving up to the exciting conclusion. Yet, even though the words are flowing and the tap-tap-tapping resounds through the house, I don’t seem to be making progress in the story. Or not the progress I’d expect.
Perhaps it is because the story has already played out in my head and the tedious task of typing it out takes so much longer than I have the patience for. Maybe there is more story than I expected when the movie reel spun to empty inside my brain.
All I know is that I’m so anxious to type the final words of the first draft. I’m longing to announce that the story is complete. For the first time in my life I’m looking forward to editing!
My fellow writers, I’m sure you can commiserate with me. Now it's your turn. I’d love to hear how you keep yourself focused on the end goal. Do you reward yourself? Do you threaten yourself? How do you keep yourself from becoming the lazy writer that doesn’t vet out the story near the end? HOW? Because right now the ending my kids used to use sounds good.
Then everybody died - the end.