Of course, it's the eleventh hour and he is trying to finish the report, except I see him doing everything but write.
"Son, you need to get focused and get back to writing," I say for the umpteenth time.
"I am. Look; just since I've been sitting here, I've written from here to here," he says, pointing between ten lines of notebook paper.
"Wow. That's impressive. I've written more than that and haven't even touched the computer in the last two hours."
"Well, you're making stuff up as you go. I have to remember facts, names, and things that are true. It's harder."
Hmm. Procrastinator and smart-mouthed. Must be a recessive gene on his father's side.
But honestly, I've been less focused than he is as of late. According to my chart at NaNoWriMo, at my current pace, I should finish by December 9th. You know, after the November 30th deadline.
You'd think the "making stuff up as I go" would be easy, but as I close in on the halfway point, every word is a struggle. My focus is fuzzy. My will to finish is being challenged. And then there is my incessant need to check Facebook and my email, ahem, regularly.
I'm half-tempted to log in and then have my husband change the password to something I don't know.
Half-tempted. Let's not get crazy. Yet.
One side of my brain wants to finish. The other side of my brain tells me to quit wasting time. My unconscious mind must be troubled. I woke up one morning thinking about a dream I was having about reflexive verbs*. In the dream, I was re-reading something I'd written, a piece a plethora of people had read. It was complete drivel and rife with errors. I later found out that scores of people, all of whom have a better grasp on English grammar than myself, had been laughing at me for a long time.
It wasn't until later in the afternoon that I had remembered the dream. I posted about it in Facebook, curious as to what people had to say about it.
One friend said:
"You sometimes feel other people find your love of grammar use irritating and fear that you might no be the expert you think you are; a mild insecurity that reveals itself in a dream."Hit the nail on the head, she did.
"I think it is less about your use of grammar (which you're excellent at) but possibly you feel like you are on the wrong path -- not doing the right thing and what people think about that."Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner!
And by walk away, I mean to attend to all the little chores I've merely brushed over in the last twelve days. Because writing? It's a full-time job. I should have been fired a long time ago.
Something deep in the recess of my brain tells me to soldier on. To "finish this shit I started" as Chuck Wendig says. I will make stuff up as I go, and it is doubtful that this novel will ever be available to the public. The story line is weak, at best. The climax was sort of, "Eh. Sounded good in my head," and I am sick to death of the protagonist's name**.
We'll see what the end brings.
*I went to find a link for those that may be curious, but all I could find were foreign language examples for ELL students. Anyway, the short story is this: a reflexive verb simply means the subject and object to which the action will be happening are the same.
Example: I wash myself. (I is the subject; myself is the object. Clear is mud, right?)
**As of this writing, I've typed her name 219 times. That's not including the times I had typed it, deleted, and replaced it with a pronoun. No wonder.