I'm a plodder. I'm not proud of this. While other writers around me are spinning stories by the hour, 2k, 4k, 7 k words a day, I'm struggling at just a thousand. If I can get that out.
I thought once the kiddos were in school, when I had a good chunk of quiet time all to myself, I'd pound out a few thousand no problem. After all, I've been writing this story in my head now for months. I even turned off the internet. I sat with no distractions but a blank screen and a computer keyboard with less than 14 letters still legible.
Two and half hours later... just under a thousand.
No matter how well plotted my book is, no matter how vivid it is in my head, no matter how excited I am about sitting to write and how full my head is of the next scene.... I plod.
It's not that my typing is slow. I type pretty fast, actually. It's finding the right words. It's getting those words in the right order. It's stopping to check coffee shop drinks so my character orders exactly the right drink. It's coming up with new names for new characters that pop up suddenly. It's just... writing.
I try to console myself with the thought that maybe I don't need as many revisions because I write deliberately to begin with. I don't have many spelling, grammar, punctuation issues because I write slooooowwwwwllly... plenty of time to catch those little buggers. I pretend maybe my first drafts are stronger for my plodding.
But honestly, I don't think any of that is true. The truth is, I'm just slow.
I will never be one of those writers who can write a book in three weeks, or five weeks, or even two months.
I'm trying to be okay with that. And for now, I'll be happy for those 950 words. It's 950 words I didn't have yesterday. Small victories are victories nonetheless.