Base Layer

The manuscript is complete and weighing in at about 70K words. It's hard to believe I had that many things to say about myself. My target was 60K, and after six straight weeks of writing like my life depended on it, progress ground to a halt at 59K. I hit writer's block at the finish line! I could feel that self-sabotaging monkey jumping up and down on my shoulder, screaming at the top of its little lungs, "This was all in vain! No one cares about your story! People are going to be mad at you for publishing this! Stop now while you still can!"

I'm learning how to push through in life; how to do the hard things. In the book, I call it my base layer–the 59K mark where I really feel the resistance.

I always wanted to become a painter, but nothing ever looked on paper like it did in my head. All of my work landed in the trash. Every clumsy attempt at painting reaffirmed my insecurities as an artist.

When I lived in Portland, my mom sent me an alcohol ink painting kit; probably to give me a sense of purpose when I was struggling, knowing her. It sat around in my collection of brand-new art supplies for a couple years before I finally cracked it open one night while tripping on mushrooms. I immediately fell in love with their dynamic, fluid movement, and the vibrancy of the colors. The plastic paper is forgiving and I could just start over if I messed up. My self-confidence grew, and I began incorporating animals, trees, and people into my scenes. Pretty soon I had a decent collection of pieces that brought me joy.

When I lived in West Seattle, a friend invited me to do an art show at the Pilates studio where she worked. I was thrilled and nervous for the opportunity, and invited her to come over and preview my work. She liked several pieces, but of course, it's always the negative feedback that stands out. She told me my work looked, "unfinished."

That word hung in my head for days and cycled through on repeat. Unfinished! At first I took it personal, and questioned her acumen for knowing good art when she sees it. Then I took each piece out and examined it as if seeing it for the first time. My paint brushes came back out, and I just kept going. I added more and more detail and layers until I knew in my heart it was as done as I was capable of getting it. Her comment stung, but she was 100% on target. I was stopping at the base layer.

Just like with the book, once I started making progress again, I got into a flow state and forgot that I wanted to be done three hours prior. Not only did my work look finished, it looked exponentially more interesting. Pushing past that invisible wall was everything!

Gouache on watercolor paper

Sometime in my 30's I ran a 5K, and I remember dragging ass about 3/4 away from the finish line. There was a hill, and my run slowed to a running-shaped walk–a caricature of an athletic person. An older gentleman, probably in his 70's, cruised up next to me.

"Don't slow down now! You're almost there! Keep going! You can do this!" Then he ran off, leaving me in his dust. A woman followed closely behind him, pushing her two toddlers up the hill like the stroller was motorized.

I completed the race and even ranked not-last! I could have lived for days on the rush of dopamine and adrenaline. It's such a good feeling to finish what you start.

Now that the manuscript has been flushed out, it's time for a developmental edit. This is where my fledgling story learns how to fly. I'm excited to see what the words will do with the help of a team.

Thank you following my book journey. I am excited to cross the finish line with you!