My Pictures Refuse to Upload

Anyway.

Here I am, checking in at the end of the week, just like I said I would. (Hi, my name is C.M., and I’m a writing addict.)

Last night I marathon-ed on the second draft of Ch 12 and got that bad boy finished. I didn’t think I’d make such progress. I’ve been home for a week, and already I’ve finished two chapters’ second drafts. Wow…*pats self on the back* Good job, me. I’m thinking of starting the 1st draft of Ch 13 tonight; lo and behold, I’ve run into the wall that says, “Oh, C.M. You know you hate first drafts. Before you do anything, go weep in the corner for a while.” …not saying I do that. Because I don’t. I swear.

…outwardly.

Moving on! Looking at the next first draft I have to put up with, I really am getting nervous again. The Best Friend tells me every time that it’s just a first draft, I know the second one will be better, you shouldn’t be scared of it, it won’t write itself, all that blah-blah. And I know all that. But I guess first drafts are like skydiving. You stand at the edge of a plane you just jumped out of, gaze down on the little people below you, and you ask yourself, “Why? Why do I climb back in this blasted, infernal machine? Why do I sit here and torture myself and want to cry every time I stare this unfallowed land in the face? Why must this process–this jumping point–be so difficult whenever it comes around again? Why–“

Image

And then the sensible you comes up from behind and pushes the worry-wart you out of the plane. And the process starts all over again. Gliding through, the parachute almost failing to deploy, the smooth sail back down to earth, the triumphant laughter, and the climb back into the plane. This is my thirteenth climb back in, and it’s only getting more difficult.

Which is very annoying, honestly.

So, fellow friends and writers, pray for this poor soul climbing back into the plane. The heavens entice me every time; never yet have they failed to draw me into the sky, wide-eyed, only to incur upon me the vast knowledge of how small I really am. I know God has a sense of humor…but I guess I miss the punchline sometimes.

Here’s to looking for the punchline. And parachutes successfully deploying.

Every first draft makes me want to quit, but every second draft reminds me why I don’t.

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