I posted an update to my status on facebook that I'd managed to farm out three of my four children (and the one that stayed home is pretty danged independent) and so I had 3 days to write and clean. My super-cool facebook friends all told me forget the cleaning and go write!
But I didn't want to write, and you wanna know why?
Cause I just cut 12,349 words! That's why.
Seeing as how I'm an accountant these days I thought I'd run the numbers--35.4% of what I had written to date is now in my cuts folder. That leaves me with 22, 543 which is only 25% of my goal of 90,000 words.
See, the heartache comes from the fact that I knew what I'd written wasn't really working, which is one reason why I'd been avoiding the writing. But when I'm down 3 kids and a husband, and before the husband leaves I ask that husband for a blessing so I can use my time well; I have to write. And unfortunately for me, HAVING to write, means I HAD to cut. And it hurts, damnit.
I was supposed to have this book done by August 1st. It's very hard to adjust that deadline in my mind without feeling as though I'm failing my publisher and my readers and myself. But it was my own deadline and, ironically, I know that not cutting it means I can't move forward, because I try too hard to make what doesn't work, work and that is almost equally discouraging. Ya know?
Kinda like yesturday. The kids are gone, and I know it's the Sabbath and all, but I started to clean my daughter's room. I really only wanted to confirmation that yes, the closet was still there. Within 2 hours I had 2 full size garbage sacks (full of polly pocket clothes and barbie shoes I feel no guilt over discarding) in my garbage can, a bag of clothes for her cousin and 2 boxes and 2 bags of stuff for DI. She has a month to remember specific items in the DI stuff that I will then return to her, but after a month, if she can't remember it, it's gone. It was extreme, yes, and I should have waited until today, but it was also impossible for me to clean without CUTTING. Otherwise the room would never have been clean--there was too much stuff.
And cutting the 12,349 had to be done as well. I know it did, but it's still hard to see my page count dwindle.
I'm getting my hair cut on Thursday. It's time. I love it long, but then there are times I just don't. My ends are thin, it sticks to me when I'm working outside and I just need a little style--so I'm going under the knife. It won't be fun, and I might just cry, and yet I know it's a good thing and feel a glimmer of excitement at the idea of change!
I need to feel that same glimmer of excitement about cutting my story--because I cut it, that means I can have a healthier head of words, right? And it means that I won't have junk spilling through the doorway, right? And this sick feeling in my stomach will go away, right?
Oh, I really, really hope so.