Three Years & Counting
Three years.
That’s how long I’ve been working on this book.
On the one hand, that realization is mortifying. I have spent three years of my life on this story, and it’s still not done. Surely, that is too long. Surely, that length of time indicates failure, or incompetence, or a complete lack of talent.
Much of my anxiety around writing this book revolves around two questions:
Where has the time gone?
How much longer will this take?
In an attempt to answer them, I keep a log of my writing activities, creatively named Writing Log. Every writing session gets its own row in my spreadsheet, where I capture:
Date
Start Time / End Time
Hours (spent in session)
Word Count
Mood (Happy, Content, Frustrated, Insecure, Tired, etc.)
Category (Writing, Editing, Rewriting, Critique, Brainstorming, Outlining, etc.)
Notes (short description of what I worked on)
At this point, I have accumulated over 1100 rows on this spreadsheet. I have logged over 2600 hours. Written over 400,000 words*.
And I’m still. Not. Done.
(*I started this book in April 2022. I didn’t start the log until September 2022, which means I’m missing about 5 months of activity. So whatever stats I throw out, they’re actually higher.)
Most of the time, I ignore the numbers. I keep my head down (or rather, I keep it in the fictional world I’ve created) and push on. But when I do return to reality and see how much the spreadsheet has grown, I’m often ashamed that I haven’t made it further. I’m frustrated because I don’t know how to go any faster. Anxious that I’ll never be done.
But as I pass the 3-year mark, these anxiety-inspiring numbers are making me feel something else.
Pride.
1100 writing sessions. 2600 hours. 400,000 words.
Those numbers aren’t proof of failure. They’re evidence of my commitment. My dedication. My tenacity. They are numbers to be proud of.
And why shouldn’t I look back on the last three years with pride? I’ve accomplished so much more than what can be quantified in Writing Log.
I discovered my voice. I taught myself to write an entire story. I honed my skills. I made writing friends whose opinions I trust and value. I pushed through self-doubt. I accumulated knowledge and confidence and experience, all of which will be applied to future projects.
Three years ago, I stepped off the beaten path, and I never looked back.
2022, just having set off on beaten path
2025, still wandering around in the woods
So, as I pass this milestone, instead of beating myself up for what I haven’t accomplished, I’m choosing to celebrating all that I have.
I can answer these questions through that prideful lens:
Where has the time gone?
Exactly where I wanted. Into my passion. Toward my dream.
How much longer will this take?
I don’t know. And that’s okay.
If the numbers tell me anything, it’s that I’ll put in the time. And if I’m proud of my past self, maybe I should trust my future self to make me proud, too.