In November, I dove head first into something I never thought I'd accomplish. I picked apart a character - dissecting her qualms and fears - breathing life into her hopes and dreams. I did this for a solid month, falling in love with who she was and what she wanted to become. My heartbeat quickened for her safety. I laughed with her, cried with her, fought for her and became angry at the injustice she faced. Her life took on a meaning of its own. Dialogue twisted and turned in ways I never imagined. My stomach plummeted with the truth of those in her life far too often.
And then life happened.
And the chaos I attempted to weave my character through echoed itself in my own story - sending me reeling and grabbing for anything I could hold on to for safety. Eventually, I found my footing again. We all do.
But my girl is still searching, stuck in the pages of my imagination - yearning to be free. I've heard her call a few times these past few months, but busy-ness outweighs creativity. And me, being the perfectionist I am, can't own up to Lammot's advice of spitting out words and producing a "shitty first draft". I know this is what needs to happen. Heck, I know it's happening already. My 60,000 words are no where near cemented on the pages.
I miss her. I miss the thrill of finding the rhythm of your story - getting lost in the words and forcing yourself to quit because the early morning hours are threatening to stretch across the sky in new light. And this morning, listening to the song of her rescue, I felt the pull. I don't know how much longer I will be able to push her away.
Rescue is calling, and there's nothing I can do but close my eyes and dive head first. Sometimes, just like my girl, I just need a little push.
So consider this my own push. I'm forcing my self over the ledge. Thanks to the drive this morning, Nicole's post, and this blog I just discovered, my muse has raised her hand and begged for me to listen. So I will. My goal: finish my manuscript - and the editing - by August 27. That's 100 days from today.
I'm putting this out there because with commitment comes accountability. And the last thing I want to do now is let her down. I believe her story - in all of its tragedy and despair - needs to be shared. This is where I begin - again. Hopefully, once complete, others will see her hope through shattered dreams. Others will understand the devastating truth of human commodity and the reckless beauty in life - despite circumstances surrounding us. Hopefully, once complete, others will read her story and understand the importance of coming alive.