i did that crazy thing

I'm feeling pleased as punch this evening. I wrote 50,600 words of a novel in 30 days. This morning I was 6,000 words short of the goal, but I just crossed the finish line with four hours to spare. Which means I am free to watch the Pats-Saints game with my man.

Have I mentioned that my man is excellent? Today he picked up Lilly from school, did the grocery shopping, cooked dinner, and washed up, so that I could do nothing but write, write, write. He and Lilly secretly bought me roses and presented them to me, along with lots of hugs, when I emerged victorious from the bedroom. They have been tremendous cheerleaders for me all month. I'm so glad they are my family.

I wrote earlier that I wanted to attempt this project because I wanted something that was mine, mine, mine. And it has been. It's been fantastic to carve out time to play with words and meet my characters and try to tell a story that I think is worth telling. The work is both exhausting and deeply nourishing. And it is, indeed, all about me.

Except that it isn't. It's about them too. It's about them giving me the space, and being proud of me, and feeling like they are contributing to the project. And about me letting them support me, me welcoming them in. This arrangement has worked out splendidly this month, and I feel very grateful. Can relationships really look like this? Can I be a wife, a mom, and a me? Because sometimes, in the busyness life, I do wonder...

As for the novel... it's incomplete and totally unstructured. But I like some of the people in it, and there is a story or two in there. Now I've got 120 pages of material to mess around with that I didn't have before, plus a glimmer of a future that includes babyloss, but that also could be full of creative bursts and family support and roses when I need them.