It’s been almost a month since I last mentioned my novel. I wish I could say that it’s because I’ve been too busy writing it. Sadly, no.
I have been thinking about the story, though, and last night I decided to read through the rough draft. I’d had some time away from it, and that gave me a fresh perspective.
My first impression was amazement. I couldn’t believe how much I’d written. Though 17,000 words wasn’t enough to get me even close to the NaNoWriMo finish line, it’s a lot of text.
I have to admit that my story has some glaring flaws. It’s far from consistent. Certain characters are mentioned once, never to reappear. Others get name changes mid-story. One even dies twice but is miraculously still around later. That’s the consequence of writing when you don’t know where the story is going.
But there are some good things in there, too. I found individual paragraphs that I loved, characters that I wanted to know better, and themes that I wanted to develop more. I’m surprised to say this, but I think it would be worth finishing.
I don’t want to make any promises about writing. I’m afraid I won’t keep them. I want to use weak words, like “hope,” “want,” and “try,” that don’t require anything from me.
Those words just aren’t good enough anymore. So I’m going to say it, and I mean it:
I will finish my novel this year.