Right now I feel like someone who is doing a 110m hurdle race and I have clipped the sixth hurdle and now my rhythm has broken. The first five hurdles were easy; gliding over them with effortless grace, the sprint between hurdles in perfect time and motion. A well oiled machine. After hitting the sixth hurdle my sprints in between are choppy, out of cadence. Clearing the next hurdles have been akin to the jumping of a flightless bird, arms and legs flailing madly. I now have the grace of a brick that has been lobbed underarm onto the lawn expecting it to roll smoothly.
From the day I started writing this book (October 26th) I stuck to my guns and wrote every single day. Sometimes the minimum 300 words, occasionally over 3,000. But since I missed a couple of nights the week before last, I have lost my forward motion. I even missed another three nights this week just gone. Wednesday night was out having Christmas drinks with work colleagues. Thursday night I was still, shall we say, "recovering". Last night, I have no excuse, I was a lazy bastard. So 1,200 words that I have to make up today in quota before the book is where it should be at this point.
There is hope. I have the next week off through to Tuesday the 2nd of January and I plan to write every single day again to get me back into rhythm. Not only that, I want to dedicate at least two days to writing ALL day, or be in the act of writing, just to see how it goes. I may achieve nothing, or I might just make some really good headway. I'm at 65,000 words now and I would like to hope I can crack 75,000 by the time the week is done, anything beyond that will be a bonus.
Be not like the brick; be instead like the athlete in flight.