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Don’t Try This At Home
Have you ever stopped to read the warning labels on some of the more common items found throughout your home?
You know, the high chairs that aren’t meant to be flotation devices, the hair dryers that aren’t for use while bathing, the hot coffee that’s, er, HOT…
At first glance they’re funny—in some cases laugh-out-loud funny. But then you realize they must be there for a reason (ie, some idiot actually attempted to dry their hair while sitting in a bath tub–zzzzzzap).
Ahhhh yes, there are geniuses among us, ladies and gentlemen…true geniuses.
Unfortunately, this is where I need to remind myself of the whole “glass houses” expression.
Yessss, I’m aware curling irons are for external use only. And that children should be removed before folding a travel crib. But no one ever told me there was a warning label attached to the little endeavor I set out on over the past two weeks. Though, in all fairness, even if there had been a warning I’d have been too pig-headed sleep-deprived to read it.
I wrote a novel in two weeks. Give or take a few days.
Mostly take.
Am I insane, you ask? Apparently.
What in the world got into me, you wonder? Guilt.
The long and short of it is this: I had an opportunity that I almost lost out on because I let life get in the way. I let worry over tests, the hectic pace of too many jobs and responsibilities, and my own starry-eyed never-gonna-happen fantasy dreams distract me from the goal I’ve had my whole life—to make it as a writer.
And the worst part?
I came thisclose to blowing it completely (with thisclose equaling less than three weeks until a deadline I’d known about for three months 
).
Fortunately, my favorite aunt has “the look” down to perfection. And when she asked (on January 12th) how the manuscript had turned out…and I had to admit I had done nothing on it since we talked in December…she gave it to me good. Without uttering a single, solitary word.
Gulp.
And you know what? She was right. I’d been an idiot with a capital I-D-I-O-T.
So I had two choices when I headed back home to St. Louis.
1) Continue to gaze at the first three chapters I’d written (and spit-shined over and over) months earlier–patting myself on the back over the very cool plot I’d concocted.
OR
2) Get off my duff (or, rather, get ON my duff) and finish writing the damn thing.
I opted for choice #2. Because, as a small handful of close friends will tell you, I can be, um, rather driven at times. And nothing sparks that drive more than the thought of regret.
Nothing.
So, I got to work…
I pulled several eleven-hour days (literally) when I wasn’t expected to be at the bookstore or teaching middle schoolers. When I did have to wear one of those hats, I stayed up until midnight only to wake up at 3 a.m. Day after day after day after day.
I wrote until my fingers hurt.
I wrote until I could barely walk across the room.
I wrote until my hands were too stiff to push the button on the top of my injector.
I wrote through more meals than I can count.
But you know what?!?!?! I’m proud to report that I pressed “send” at 1:45 a.m. on January 31st.
Was it a perfect final draft? No.
Are there things I would like to change/develop during the next go-round? Of course.
Was it a solid first draft? Absolutely.
You see, from the moment I realized what I was about to blow, I had one goal. To show these folks what I can do as a writer and to get this story in front of them.
I accomplished that.
The rest is out of my hands.
Remember… You can’t win, if you don’t enter. You can’t get published, if you don’t write. You can’t make your deadline, if you don’t DO it.
So, get to it!
Hugs,
~Laura
**A big thank you goes out to Dusty. You could earn a living as a motivational e-mail cheerleader!
Only…worse.
.
