If I were keeping to my schedule, I would, by now, have written several thousand words of the first draft of my new novel.
But I woke with a start on Sunday morning, compelled to edit (yet again!) the manuscript I’m currently submitting. I was puzzled. I ate a delicious croissant and drank a litre of coffee, hoping to come to my senses.
I’d previously worried that I had edited this novel to death. So why was I thinking of pushing it over the cliff? Was this a self-destructive urge? Was I about to take a sledgehammer to my pages, my goal, my DREAM?
Sentences and paragraphs flashed through my mind. I was editing again, already!
Did I need a therapist?
No. I needed to sit down and spend three days on the FINAL, final edit. And I made a lot of changes. Things that, for whatever reason, I hadn’t seen before. The manuscript is definitely not dead (why had I thought that?) and much improved by this FINAL edit.
Next week, I’ll start my new novel -- my ghost story. And push the deadline for the first draft back to the middle of April.
It’s vital to have goals and deadlines and schedules. But, I’m learning, flexibility is hugely important.