A
little over a year ago I decided that I was finally going to make writing a
priority in my life. After a summer of self-doubt and slight depression I knew
I needed something for myself. I needed to be more than a mom and a wife and a
volunteer. Not that I don’t love being all of those things. I do but I realized
that I needed something that was entirely for me. I love to write and have done
so off and on for most of my life. A year ago I even thought I was a pretty
good writer. I decided last September that it was time for me to pursue my
dream of being a published author. The first step in achieving that dream had
to be to write. Obviously. It’s not that I didn’t know this but I had always
relied on inspiration in my writing. I also allowed so many other things and
situations to take the place of writing in my life. So last September I decided
enough was enough and it was time to change all of that. It was time to put my
butt in a chair and write everyday – no matter what.
I
told my husband my plan and he nodded with encouragement. Then he asked, “For
how long?” He wasn’t being cruel or unsupportive. My husband and I have been
together for fourteen years. He knows me better than anyone. He has witnessed
my stop-and-go writing habits. He knows how important writing is to me and
wants me to succeed but he also knows that I used to allow other things to take
precedence. So I looked him in the eyes and said, “One year.” That, I can
honestly say, he didn’t believe. I can also say that it hurt a little bit to
know immediately that he didn’t believe me. And strangely, I felt a strong
burst of stubborn motivation. I looked at him and said again, “One year. Watch
me do it.”
As
of today I have written for 367 days straight. Two days ago I made certain to
let my husband know I had made it a year. He grinned and said congratulations.
Then he crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Now take a month off from
writing.” Before he had even finished speaking I was shaking my head. Then I said,
“No way.”
He
wanted to know, “Why not?”
I
told him, “I’m never going to stop writing again.”
“Good,”
he said and hugged me before going to work on his music. I checked our kids’
homework, got them settled for the night and went to add up the numbers for my
year of writing.
Yes,
I kept track of exactly how much I wrote over the past year. I have a wall
calendar over my desk where I jot down how many words I write every single day.
It’s incredibly motivating. While the writing isn’t about how much I get done –
seeing the numbers helps to keep me going when I hit a bad day. Another thing
that kept me going (and will continue to do so) was being a part of the
WriteChain Challenge. I never wanted to skip a day and start back at number
one. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that occurrence but I didn’t want it
for myself.
In
case you’re wondering, I wrote 535,520 words over the past year. That breaks
down to eight manuscripts and six short stories. I love five of those
manuscripts, sort of still like two and know that one is not an example of what
I’m really capable of writing. That’s my polite way of saying that I know it is
crap. One of my short stories was published last Autumn and the others were
more or less writing practice.
After
one year of daily writing I know that I am really good at what I do. This past
year built my confidence as a writer. I know for certain what my strengths and
weaknesses are now. I know what I need to work on going forward. I also know
that I will succeed because I won’t settle for anything less. In fact, I’ve
already found success within myself. Now
it is time to reach out and grab the public success.
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