Personal Goal: 45,000 words by the end of tomorrow.
I just have to write another 11,688 words.
I can totally handle that. Right?
I’m at that point and it’s only 8:00 a.m.
Today my family confirmed my worst suspicions: to them, I am our very own Edith Crawley.
What hurt the most is that I realized that they think I want to be alone.
God in heaven, they couldn’t be more wrong.
A dear friend is getting married November 25. In England. I need to get 50,000 words before I leave. There is no way I can do both.
One benefit of being employed? I don’t have much else to distract me.
Last year, I made a bucket list. Well, technically, it’s a 30 Before 30 list, but anyway, one of the things I want to do is to write a novel.
I’d also like to publish a novel, but at this point in time I just want to take baby steps.
Anywho, I then heard about NaNoWriMo and thought perhaps I could finally complete this goal. But what would I write?
Remember how I said that my great-great grandmother eloped as a teenager? Well, I’ve been discussing the story with family and friends, and I have decided to write that. As a novel.
I’m really excited. Also terrified.
Tomorrow, I’m off to research about America in the 1910s and ’20s.
And I’m loved because of it and in spite of it.
If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.
So Heaven meets Earth like a sloppy wet kiss,
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets,
When I think about the way
He loves us.