I knew it: I just had to execute.
One of my ongoing projects is a long short story, or a novella, or maybe a novelette. In any case, it has five chapters. Last winter I made it almost exactly halfway through — finished the first two chapters in no time flat — and stalled midway through the third chapter.
About a month ago it occurred to me that I know how the thing ends, so maybe if I skipped over the third chapter for now, I could break the logjam.
A week went by, and two weeks, and then three, and I kept thinking if I would just jump to the fourth chapter … but you know me by now. It wasn’t happening.
Thursday night, I made a pledge: I would sit down Friday morning and plunge into the fourth chapter, and I wouldn’t get up against until I finished — the chapters are about 2,000 words each.
For once, I did what I said I was going to do. I started the fourth chapter and breezed right through it in a couple of hours.
I was having so much fun, I went ahead and wrote the fifth chapter, too.
Yes, you heard right. After writing almost nothing for months, I banged out nearly 4,000 words in one day.
So all of a sudden, I’ve completed the first two chapters, the last two chapters, and half of the middle chapter.
And all I had to do was sit down and commit myself to doing it. How hard was that?
Now, let’s set my sights on getting the rest of Chapter 3 done, and I will have completed my first longer-form fiction project in nine years. It’s barely a novella, not a novel at all, but baby steps, right?
What’s it about? Watch this space for some shameless self-promotion. I have to finish that middle chapter first.