I wrote 95,158 words. now what?

I have finished the first draft of my memoir.

I can’t believe I’m typing those words.

Like… I wrote the first draft of a whole ass book. 

Pinch me?!

If you told me this a year ago, I don’t know that I would’ve believed you. At that point in time, I had barely 10,000 words written and a whole bunch of pages and memories that I had no clue how to string together.

I have never written this much.

My longest essay has been maybe 20 pages long, double-spaced.

Even my graduate school thesis was a mere 68 pages, just shy of 20,000 words.

The fact that I’ve finished the first step (of many, many steps) for this project does not feel real.

my first draft is coming in hot at 95,158 words, 293 double-spaced pages.

And honestly, I don’t think it sucks.

It’s not great, not by a long shot, and it’s definitely not ready.

But it’s finished.

And I’m so effing proud of myself.

I can feel how proud Little Courtney is of me, too.

That girl who dreamed of being a real author one day. Of writing books. Of sharing stories composed of beautiful language and human themes.

She is beaming inside of me.

But honestly… I’m terrified of what’s next, because I’ve never been great at editing my own work. I know I have a lot to figure out within this manuscript. It doesn’t all tie together quite right yet and I’m positive I’m not hitting the “why” the way that I want to. There are holes to be filled, bridges to be built, words to be cut, and words to be added. And then it needs to be shown to others’ eyes for feedback, so I can fill and build more holes and bridges. And then that needs to be done again, and again, and again, and again. Then, professionally.

And that’s all before I even embark on publishing.

I’m scared to lose the magic that I found in drafting… the possibilities that the blank page offered.

Editing requires an entirely different skillset and an entirely different mode of thinking.

As I reached the end, I found myself literally slowing down my writing. I started writing scenes that I knew I would cut and I started dragging things out because I wasn’t ready to be at the end.

I was resisting it because I didn’t want to be done.

Because I loved drafting.

I found such a good rhythm with it. Once I started my 300-words-a-day benchmark in June, I basically powered through this draft.

I turned around11,622 words in June, 10,659 in July, 20,723 in August, 12,217 words in September, 16,511 in October, 12,564 in November, and 8,295 in December. All because of the scheduled consistency of 300 words a day.

300 words a day. small, daily progress that led to me finishing a first draft in a year.

All of my progress is quite literally due to that one daily habit.

I wrote on airplanes, I wrote at my desk, I wrote on vacation, I wrote looking at the sunrise, I wrote in my childhood bedroom, I wrote at my kitchen table, I wrote on the couch, I wrote on my patio, I wrote in hotel rooms, I wrote at airports, I wrote on the train, I wrote in a camping chair next to a still lake, I wrote in a camping chair next to a roaring river, I wrote perched on a rock with snow next to me, I wrote with my bare feet in the grass, I wrote with my bare feet in the sand, I wrote in a note on my phone while walking, I wrote in the car, I wrote in panicked minutes before going to bed, I wrote in spacious afternoons, I wrote when the last thing I wanted to be doing was writing.

I wrote and charged forward because I figured out how to get myself to do that.

300 words daily. It’s quantifiable. I could track that. And I did—only missing seven days in those six months.

I don’t know what kind of quantifiable flow to get into with editing…. it feels like an unknown abyss.

I have to keep reminding myself that it is an unknown abyss. That just like drafting, I won’t know what I’m doing at first.

Because when I’m honest, I spent eight months thinking about drafting before I found my 300-words-a-day flow.

I know I will find “that thing” that makes editing feel easy—and maybe even fun.

So I’m trying to lean into that, instead of spiraling into the panic that I feel rising in my chest.

Really, I think I might let myself take a break away from my manuscript for a certain amount of time… to literally take some pressure off of this immense dread I feel.

I’m not sure yet.

And I’m accepting that.

Ultimately?

I finished a full first draft.

And I’m dang proud of that.

that’s enough, for now.

xx

Court

tracking 300 words a day.