Now, I had some high expectations when I started this, cuz, have you met me? I thought for sure that I would finish the draft of my novel and that I would then move on to one of my other projects. Either my YA trilogy or memoir about yoga and writing.
I didn’t finish my novel.
But over 14,000 words written is better than 14,000 words not written.
What I did do was write in my notebook. A lot. About 8-10 pages a day.
At first I was disappointed in myself. Because of course I was.
Most of the writing that fills this particular notebook came from prompts from Desiree Adaway for a program called Sister Summer. It’s a month of writing and reflection where we “do the hard complex work needed to get free together.”
All writing, no matter what it is, helps me become the writer, woman and human being I want to be.
It’s been a rough couple of months, hasn’t it? But amidst the protests and the pandemic and being unemployed I managed to write 1000 motherfucking words every single day. That is something. That is huge.
I’m going to own it because even though the challenge didn’t take me where I intended, it still took me somewhere fantastic and unexpected.
I want to keep this momentum going. The momentum of writing 1000 words a day and the momentum of educating myself to be actively anti-racist and an ally.
I need to remember that both are marathons, not sprints.
Both are practices for a lifetime not merely a moment and especially not for an Instagram moment.
Both require me to dig deep and be honest about what I see, about what I find.
Both require me to be strong. To use my voice—especially when it is uncomfortable.
I don’t think it was an accident that this challenge coincided with this moment in history. One did not distract from the other. They nourished each other. They acted as mirrors, reflecting back to me where I was stuck, where I’ve been racist, where I clung to my white privilege, where I have failed and where I can do and be better.
I can’t think of a better result for writing those 14,000 words.