I haven’t given up. That is the most important thing. Not the amount of time I spent not writing because I was too tired, or too depressed, or too busy trying to pick up the forgotten pieces of my life that had scattered to the four corners of who knows where. I haven’t given up.
I have set a goal for September, 10,000 words, in whichever form they want to arrive. That leaves me with only 325 words a day. This is a goal that’s not asking too much of me, a goal not demanding I make up every opportunity and every second of time I spent not writing. I have a bad habit of giving myself way more than I can handle.
But this week. I’ve met every expectation and then some. We’re going to finish this story. Maybe not by the end of 2021 like I originally wanted, but I’m definitely going to get there. No matter how tired I get, how many months of depression I fall into, or how much I get in my own way. The Edge of Death is still very much alive.