I didn’t get to the gym today. One day of working out hard, and of course an obstacle gets in the way. Instead of crying about it, I headed for my basement, I did a lighter workout. It was better than nothing. I could have whined, but the energy was better spent moving toward my fitness goal. I didn’t get the workout I wanted, but I did get my butt on the bench. It meant a lot. It also meant that I had one less excuse why I couldn’t be a better writer.
Similar to a reduced workout being better than no workout, writing a little was better than not writing at all. I would love to have hours of my writing at my disposal, but that’s not realistic right now. Bills need to be paid, kids need to be fed and someone has to buy Fallout: New Vegas when it comes out in October. While I may not have large blocks of time to write, I can sure write during the smaller fragments of time I do have.
I am not going to have a novel written any faster if I could spend 10 hours or 10 minutes each day working on it. The story is going to be finished when it has told its tale. I have no control over that. What I can control is the consistency of the work I put in each day. In the gym, such consistency gets you the physique you want. The same dedication is what gets the novel completed. I am hoping by the end of the journey that I have both.