Today was meant to be ‘manuscript submission’ day. Instead it’s the less exciting and unproductive ‘beat-yourself up’ day.
I thought I’d be relieved when I decided last night that my manuscript was too important to rush; that a heavy weight would be lifted. I could actually spend time with my kids and husband on their holidays.
I shrugged off that weight but felt a little light, so I went off in search of some heavier baggage to lug around. Self-loathing and failure are always happy to travel , so I picked them up and thought I’d carry them around for a few days. Everyone needs to get out now and again, right? Even people who don’t indicate when they drive deserve happiness.
I’m thinking. Maybe it means I’m a strong person if I can admit when I’m not ready. I mean, it’s the strong person who walks away from a fight, it’s the strong person who asks for help, it’s the strong person who carries around a lot of luggage…
I knew when I was ready for beta readers. I loved every passage I wrote more than the last and it felt right. Why did I torture myself so much over this manuscript submission goal? It’s been eighteen months since I started writing. I’m reading to let go. This baby should be able to walk by now. And it’s screaming at me to the point where I want to turn and say,” Be gone, foul beast!”
It’s only a month and I know I won’t be missing this next deadline of mine. I’ll have emails saved as drafts, a manuscript that’s ready when I am, and a synopsis that doesn’t summon demons when it’s read.
And if I miss it? Pfft. Goals were meant to be broken. Hang on, that’s rules…
Anyone else been there?