I recently mentioned how I have often experienced difficulty while trying to finish writing projects. I mean, the same is true of many things that I start. Most of the ventures I've taken on in my life have gotten tossed to the wayside after a while. It's almost like a tradition of mine. For most of my life, I've lacked follow-through, I guess you could say.
As a child, I became the youngest person admitted to the Kempo Karate dojo that my brother attended. I didn't even ask to join. They noticed how attentive I was as I watched the class through the glass, often repeating the moves they demonstrated accurately without any personal coaching. So they approached me to join. To be honest, I don't remember much about my time in the class, except the fact that I quit shortly after earning my brown belt. That's one step below black belt. As most everyone of a certain age knows, the black belt is the pinnacle of many martial arts. I stopped climbing the mountain right before I reached the summit.
In my early 20s (I'm now closer to 30 than 20 OMG), I lost over 100 lbs through diet and exercise. In this specific scenario, I actually exceeded my initial goal, and I kept the weight off for a little while. Yet, after a couple of years, I let myself slip into old habits again. Gaining 30 lbs in the process, and losing a lot of the progress I had made towards overall health and fitness.
And the novels . . . the novels hurt so much. I went through my Google Docs recently and found so many started novels that I just stopped working on. The emotions and memories tied to them are so intense, but somehow I let go of them. For one reason or another. I can't really express the exact cause for my abandonment of them. I just stopped trying. Although, I never stopped caring.
I say all that to say, that's not who I am. Just because I've failed to follow through on so many things in my life, that doesn't mean that I am unable to finish projects. I can't believe that I actually thought I was incapable of finishing a single thing that I started for most of my life. Not anymore. I can follow through on tasks. I have proof.
Last week, I finished the first draft of my novel. The working title is Insanity/Camaraderie. I'm already revising it, as well as laying down ground work for my next idea for a novel. I have no idea what's going to come of either of them, but I am beyond euphoric about the simple fact that I finished one. If it serves to do nothing more than to prove to myself that I can finish something I start, I'll still be ecstatic. Because now I know I can follow through on something I started, and that's not something I could always say about myself.