No, I am not quitting my job. Even though this (writing!) is the best job in the world. Even though I miss talking to people all day. Even though I’m not getting paid. But I am not in it for the money, and having experienced the time in my life when I was in something for the money, let me just tell you being in something for the money pales in comparison to being in it for the love.
Anyhoo, at the beginning of the year, as I was outlining my writing goals, I set a target date to finish my novel by March 15. Well, let me just remind you that March 15 is in less than two weeks. OMG. Seriously.
But, I will make it or get very close to it. If I’m off by a few days, I won’t be upset. At the rate I’m going, Excel tells me I should be just fine. Unless, well, lots of things. Who knows if the climax will really wrap up in as many words as I’ve estimated? Maybe it will all be a mess and I’ll keep writing and writing and end up with 550 pages like my first novel. If that does happen, I will force myself to stop. At least I can say I’ve learned that.
I’ve started having weird feelings knowing my book is wrapping up. I’m all crabby and tired and, last night, perhaps a little sullen. You know how on the second to last day of vacation you (OK, I) might get a little depressed that the vacation is nearly over and suddenly the sun is not bright enough, or it’s too bright and you wish it would just quit already, and the food isn’t that great after all, and you wonder why you even spent all this time and money being on vacation in the first place since tomorrow American Airlines is going to rip your precious vacation right out of your grubby little hands by shooting you in the air at an obnoxious speed?
Yeah, I’m kind of starting to feel like that.