One Step, Then One Step More

From time to time I read over my old posts, reminding myself what I’ve written in the past couple years. Recently I came across this post, “After two years, my young adult novel is nearly complete.” The date was July 23, 2011. Nine months ago. And I’m still working on that “nearly complete” novel. I’m not stuck. I’m not having problems with it. I’m just still working, honing, watching it grow and develop.

I always underestimate how long it’s going to take me to complete things. “Give me a weekend,” I say when students ask how long it will take to read, reread, evaluate,and grade 22 essay exams. “No more than a month,” I insist, facing a major project at work. And so, in July, I was convinced my novel would be completed, revised, edited, and on its way to my agent by the time classes started in September. Silly, silly girl.

Yet, I honestly don’t mind the fact that I’m still working on my novel. It’s becoming what it needs to be, and it has to take its own time. Twice a week, I walk to my favorite cafe just after dawn, get a fresh-from-the-oven muffin and two cups of coffee and write for three hours. I write between classes, in the evenings after work, and on the rare afternoon when I don’t have a class to teach, a meeting to attend, or a stack of papers to grade. For those moments–which are never enough–I walk through a gate into a world of magic and intrigue. A world that feels increasingly real and complex to me.

So, let my novel take its time. It will be finished when it’s finished. And when it is, I’ll be ecstatic–and grieving. Because the journey is at least as important as the destination. In fact, it’s the whole point.