The Begrudging Tortoise

I’ve reached a point in writing Quiver that is very rare.

*pauses, reconsiders*

Well, at least for me, it’s rare. For the rest of the authoring world it might be quite familiar. I am a rather odd bird in most things so finding another kink in the great garden hose of my leaking sanity would hardly be a surprise…

*dog strolls across lap, gives a “Get on with it!” glare and grumpily continues on her way*

So the point I’ve reached is this:

I can see the finish line.

I can even feel that glorious ribbon breaking against my chest as I cross the finish line.

This is all fine and dandy and even vaguely familiar. (‘Tis true that I occasionally finish a novel coherent and not riding a tsunami of panic that could easily wipe out Japan.)

However, it is EXTREMELY rare that I’m having to fight back the urge to sprint to that finish line.

Even when things are well in hand, I’m usually so pooped from the whole weeks of marathon writing that the thought of putting on a burst of speed at the end would be laughable and possibly grounds for committal.

But this time, with six days left until the deadline and only 4K words left to write, it’s taking everything inside of me not to throw all caution to the wind and fly to that end.

Yep, keeping that tortoise shell on is really hard when slipping on that cute little bunny tale would be so much fun!

But the slow and steady tortoise always wins the race, right?

Right.

But, jeeze that cottontail is really, really cute.

*chuckles*

Until tomorrow…

Chloe, the begrudging tortoise