At 11:10 pm, November 30, my word count surpassed 7ok. Clearly, I had made the 50k mark in my first annual NaNoWriMo challenge. But, I told myself my form needed polish. The story read like a 5k without that explosive sprint to the finish line.
So, there I sat listening to Foo Fighters' Everlong. Do I risk it? If I edit, I could get tripped up or sidelined. I might not make it before the buzzer goes of to call the race. As I considered my options, I kept hearing Jillian Michael's voice from her cardio kickboxing DVD.
"Don't cheat me!" she shouted.
Did I ever mention I hate alarms? They interrupt all the important stuff like sleep, dreams and sex. I think it's better to let nature tell me when it's time to wake up, go to bed, walk the dog, or write.
Besides, I just wasn't content with my story. I kept rehashing the plot in my head. Was it exciting? If I was snuggled on my couch reading late at night, would I fall asleep or stay riveted to the action on my pages? Did the characters have enough to make an audience scream sequel?
As I reconciled the plot, it was midnight. For some reason I didn't care that the race was officially over. I wanted my characters to feel closure to their story; or have plane tickets to the next destination in the series of adventures I am plotting for them.
So, I centered my attention on making a strong finish despite the time. If the story had just finished playing out on a big screen some-where, would I leave wanting to discuss it with my girlfriends; or would I march myself to the ticket booth to demand a refund?
In the end, I was satisfied enough to consider this very rough draft of my first novel finished. It has been left on my desktop to ferment.
Like my love for wine, it will call to me this Friday. It will tease me. I will be tested to ignore its pleas for a reread.
Thankfully, I have a new, temporary family member to care for. Santa sent Neptune, one of his elves to keep watchful eyes on Issa and Riff through December 24. There are rules Neptune must follow to in order for his magic to work. His magic enables him to fly to the North Pole each night and to speak elf to Santa while discussing Issa and Riff. This added responsibility to my domestic law enforcement duties keeps my writing addiction in check.
Plus, there's that Sunday night football contest between the Detroit Lions and the New Orleans' Saints. I love football and continue to think the Lions can turn in a victory; even without Ndamukong Suh.
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