Elevation

     I reached a milestone today, and I hope you will celebrate a little with me. I have just finished the first draft of my (as yet untitled) fourth novel!
     I call it a milestone as opposed to an accomplishment because there are still weeks of work to be done editing, and polishing, before the work is ready to face the world. Nevertheless, I feel some sense of accomplishment getting the draft finished.
     The process of writing a novel is a long and lonely one. I think Stephen King said it best when he likened it to crossing the Atlantic in a bathtub saying: 'There is a lot of room for self-doubt'. Over the course of months of writing, I often find myself despairing over whatever story I'm working on. There is a certain point in every story (usually toward the end of act II) when I think that what I've written is garbage. If left unchecked, the 'stinkin thinkin' snowballs into the thought that I have wasted several years of my life working on nonsense that no one should have to read.
     Regardless of how strong this feeling grows however, I find myself getting up every day and typing my quota of words. There is something inside that drives me on that is stronger than my doubts. What this thing is, I have no idea. It could be my faith in Jesus. It could be my often noted mulishness, or it could be something as simple as momentum. I simply do not know what drives me in those dark moments.
     A similar thing on a much smaller scale happened to me today after I had finished my draft. By way of celebration, I took a bike ride up a long winding country road (yeah, I'm that guy). When I say 'up' I mean this literally. The road climbs steadily for two miles. To say that I struggled would be putting it mildly. My recent move (see my post two weeks ago) included a gain of approximately 6,000 feet in elevation, making the air feel rather thin to my tobacco ravaged lungs. Several times during the ride, I felt the desire to turn back. I was alone, so I didn't have to convince anyone that it was time to turn around, and there was no one around to fault me for throwing in the towel.
     Yet I endured.
     That nameless thing within me reared it's head and I struggled on, until I reached the end of the road and the top of the hill. I won't bore you with a description of the dazzling view because no matter how beautiful, the view would not have been worth the pain I endured to get there. The only thing that made the ride worth it was the sense that I had done it. With no encouragement nor promise of accolades, I had climbed the hill.
     That is the same feeling that I have when I think about my newly completed draft. It is not my longest work, and only  time will tell if it is my best, but I have finished. I will sleep well tonight knowing that I overcame the high hurdle of my own self doubt, and accomplished my goal.

See you next week,

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Aug. 3, 2015