I just wrapped up my 1,000 words, and it's creeping on 2 a.m. in my neck o' the woods.
Yes, it's late. I know. The snoring dog and test pattern on the TV will attest to that. I should be relieved I stuck to my plan and got in my daily dose of words, right? Well, not so fast, my friends.
That last session was a really good one. I finished another chapter, so there was the sense of double accomplishment. Those 1,326 words felt so good, in fact, that I immediately read through the the chapter again and did a quick lil' editing session, too. And I'm pumped about it.
And there's the ol' Catch-22. I'm relieved to be done so I can go to bed. But hitting the sack right now would be an exercise in futility. I'd just lie awake because of what I was just able to accomplish. I'm still a little jazzed up.
In case you haven't read, I'm a reporter by trade right now. These kinds of accomplishments are akin to hammering out a good, complete story under the gun and getting it in just under deadline. There is an adrenaline rush that makes you turn into a box of Mexican jumping beans.
But that's part of the draw of being a reporter, at least for this fella. Part of the reason I want to write a novel is for that same type of rush, so bring it on, no matter the hour. It does wonders for my confidence, even if it cuts into my sheep counting.
It may be 2 a.m., but I'm still enjoying what I just accomplished. Yeah, I'll be tired tomorrow, but I don't have to be at work until around noon (silver lining, right?).
Maybe I'll end up taking a nap, which could lead to knocking my sleep schedule out of whack again, which could lead to me being up at 2 a.m. again tomorrow doing more cartwheels about writing.
Isn't this fun?
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