Sick day

photo by Sebastian Smit

Daughter had to stay home from school sick one day this week. I had a long list of things to get done, but decided to ignore it and spend some quality time with my girl.

We held our first mother-daughter Writing Day.

Writing Day is a monthly tradition for my writing group. We meet twice a month, once for critique and once to write. On Writing Day we take over one member’s home for the day, spreading out at tables, couches, and desks, with computer cords criss-crossing the floor in a dangerous maze. There are snacks and (ahem) beverages and a home cooked lunch to look forward to.

And then there’s the goal board.

In order to hang on Writing Day, you’ve got to set goals and stick to them. The YA Cannibals will eat you alive if you fall short of your best.

On our mother-daughter Writing Day, we got some cozy blankets, apple cider, and laptops, propped our feet up and dove in.

My goal: Write something (Dear gods of writing, please let some words appear on this page!) for my new novel.

Daughter’s goal: Finish chapter three of her novel. That’s right.  I said novel. 

I’ve been avoiding doing any actual writing on my newest project. Instead, I’ve created character history charts, a (very loose) story outline, and taken many, many research notes.

It’s fear.

I’m afraid.

Don’t worry. I know the fear is irrational. I know it is my enemy. I know. I know. I know. But, man! The fear is scary!

The fear won’t stop me, but it has slowed me down. I’ve been circling this new story for weeks, telling myself I’m just not ready to dive in. Telling myself I have to consider it from every angle. Telling myself—let’s be real—telling myself a lot of bullschmitt.

As if the telling isn’t bad enough. I’m also asking. What if the characters aren’t as likeable? What if the plot won’t move? What if the story sucks?

But with Daughter typing furiously by my side, I finally asked the right questions.

What if I just get out of my own way? What if I just be in the now?

Because, honestly, what if the story sucks? Then I work at it until it stops sucking. Good or bad, it doesn’t change a whole lot, not really, not in the here and now.

It doesn’t change who I am. And it sure as hell doesn’t change the fact that I have family and friends who put up with me when my writing crazies take over.

The fate of the entire universe does not rest on the awesomeness of my next story.

I’m just a woman. Not a superhero.

Except when I write. Because then, anything can happen.

So did I reach my goal?

Faster than a speeding bullet, 2,000 words down.

Daughter’s still way ahead of me though. She’s the real superhero of Writing Day.