TGIO (Thank God It's Over)

In the past, November has meant only one thing - Thanksgiving. This November, it's meant something else - writing. Or as I like to call it - hell. It started out as a challenge; something I've always wanted to do. Doesn't everyone think they've got at least one novel hidden in the deep recesses of their souls? I know I always did. For the last twenty years my husband has been reminding me of my promise to someday put on paper (or computer as the case may be) the bestseller that will allow us to move into that villa in Italy next to George's. Well, he may not have mentioned that part about George. That may have been my idea. Anyway, I was always shooting off my mouth that I could write something better than half of the drivel occupying spots on the library's shelves. But did I actually do it? No. Until this November 29th, I was only a novelist wannabe.

Not anymore. For twenty-nine days, I wrote an average of 1750 words per day. I sat my butt in front of the computer twenty-eight of those days and actually typed a beginning, a middle and an end of what I hope will be an actual, published book. The hard part is over. I've proved to myself that I can do it. Even if my novel never finds its way into an agent's hands; even if it never occupies a shelf in your neighborhood bookstore, no one will ever be able to take its existence away from me.

As a reward for a month of grueling hard work, our local region of the National Novel Writing Month challenge met today for a celebratory luncheon. Everyone who participated was recognized for their accomplishments (even if they didn't hit the necessary 50,000 words) and one of the writers read an essay by Tom Clancy. In it he praised and offered encouragement to anyone who had the audacity to think that what they had to say was important enough to spend hours of their lives putting it on paper. He reminded all novel writers to be proud of the fact that they accomplished something that others only talk about doing. As I listened, my eyes started to tear up. Finally. Finally, he was talking about me.