I fear I’m not going to make my deadline. I hoped to have my novel ready for polishing by the end of June, but it’s been slow going lately. I admire writers who can finish a novel in one-hour sessions carved out of an already full schedule. I can’t do that. I can edit in short spurts, but not write.
It’s not that I have writer’s block. It’s that my fragmented time gives me too much time to think. I think my story might not be strong enough. I think my prose is not up to par. I think I might have too much narrative, not enough narrative, too many details, not enough details, a too weak beginning, a too pat ending.
I hope none of these things are true, but I won’t know until I have time enough to really get back to work. Then I can insert all the fragments of scenes that now reside in “notes”, flesh them out, and see how close I come to reaching the goal of the final 15,000 words needed. Surely, I’ll be finished soon. May the Muse be with me.