Tonight is a big night, one I’ve been waiting for, for the last two years. I’m two pages away from having a submission ready novel! My head is spinning faster than preteens on a marry-go-round. So what am I doing writing a blog post instead of polishing those two short pages and just being done all ready?
I’m prolonging the high baby, that’s what I’m doing. Or, I could be avoiding finishing it in fear that I’m not as good a writer as I sometimes think I am, thus why risk the humiliation and disappointment? But then again it could just be the fact that my poor stomach can only handle so much spinning in one sitting.
If I’m being honest, it’s because I’m terrified. I’ve worked endlessly for the last two years to get to this point. I can’t go back and read over the thing again, I’m too worried I’ll decide it’s good for only compost. Which is where my head has been the last couple of days. Every word I’ve read on it has read like trash. Fit for bird-cage lining at it’s best.
I’m my own harshest critic, I know this. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’ll be putting it out there for the masses in just a couple of days. (I start submitting it on the 1st) I’ve poured my heart and soul into this novel, I’ve cried because of it, I’ve even bled on the damn thing (thank you very much Mr. Paper-cut man)
I know this is just a passing glum and once I’ve finished this post, I’ll dive right back and finish. But right now, I’m going to wallow in my suckiness for just a sweet moment, let my head stop spinning and get my stomach under control.