When Momentum Changes Shape

As I narrowed in on the final stages of my first draft, it was a strange concept to be harbouring such an emotional attachment to a prospect that, through most of this year, had felt as though it wasn’t getting any closer. 

To have reached its’ conclusion through the past few weeks has been an exciting yet daunting prospect. It represented the culmination of substantial emotional investment, endless doubt and questioning and 95,000 words of blood, sweat and tears.

At the same time, it also represented a step into the unknown. Every progression in my re-drafting process is a progression further than I’ve ever gone before. This step into the unknown right now feels as though I’m riding the wave of momentum that comes with the sprint to the finish that was the culmination of my first draft.

The understanding of ‘momentum’ however is a funny concept. 

It’s an intangible that I’ve heard thrown around at will throughout my sporting career. To many, it’s a cop out. It’s often an unexplainable phenomenon that can swing moments, matches, tournaments or seasons into a frenzied cyclone of disarray. 

Whilst so easily dismissed, I must confess that I’ve experienced my own share of its’ effects in recent weeks. 

As I write this, I have just finished my first draft. I currently sit at 95,000 words having just recently turned the corner to sprint down The Mall. Throughout this year, I’ve had a self-inflicted restraint on my writing volume which, while entirely by my own choice, has had repercussions that have been more significant than I had originally intended. 

Pro League, World Cup Qualifiers, Playoffs and European competition have all played a part in my decision to remain present in my hockey. At home, I try to be as present as I possibly can be. Any moment I have to write I therefore wanted to dedicate to my manuscript. 

It has therefore rendered my additional writing content (blogs and social media) dormant through a period in which I wanted to dedicate every opportunity I had to completing my manuscript.

I have always been able to quantify the concept of momentum as any athlete would do; fitness scores, results or skill outcomes that suggest an upward trajectory in terms of performance. By the same notion, momentum can rear its’ head in a somewhat unquantifiable force that can play with an individual or a teams’ entire psyche. 

In competition, momentum announces itself. The past few months have shown me that, in writing, this form of conflict comes in the form of a subtle unpredictable swing. Some weeks are the breeding ground of thousands and thousands of words yet can be instantly followed by baron spells that can decimate your positive mindset if you allow it room to breathe. 

The doubt and uncertainty have been prevalent throughout the entirety of this process. There’s no secret formula to minimising its impact. My experience has simply been to acknowledge it’s’ presence and understand the place that it holds in the acceptance of a challenge.

It can be overcome with a mind-numbing defiant belief that what I’m doing is worthwhile. Such a concept is innately contextual and, for me, simply enjoying the process of bringing a manuscript to life is enough to label the project as such.

Despite this belief, my manuscript has refused to grow in a straight line. There is no correlation between my time spent in front of a screen and the progression of my story. In spite of this, there has been an unquantifiable growth beneath the surface. Time away from the screen has given room for plot holes to be addressed, character arcs to be evaluated and story lines to be outlined. There has been a plethora of changes to my manuscript when the word count itself has remained still.

Momentum has therefore still been an underlying concept throughout my story but has lived in an immeasurable form of intangible ideas.

In truth, I have spent the majority of this manuscript mistaking word count or daily writing streaks as definitive progress in the same way I have viewed objective score or statistical outcomes as ‘gaining momentum’. I have attached an objective measurement to define what I have previously stated is the purest form of creativity. 

Despite this, the majority of adaptations or ‘breakthroughs’ have come in my time away from the screen. Morning walks, driving to work or quiet time with my son have helped to advance my manuscript in more ways than when I was actively writing it. 

The widely used stat that is thrown around is that 3% of writers that start a manuscript actually finish writing it. It would be understandable to therefore have a triumphant feeling about finally reaching such a milestone. Whilst I’m undoubtedly excited to reach the end of this story that I’ve carried with me for so long, it represents another step into the unknown. The closer I get to the end, the more I realise that the draft was never the destination. The size of the job at hand simply grows with every passing scene. 

I would be lying if I said there wasn’t an underlying trepidation with the scale of the task ahead but, at the same time, what an incredible opportunity. 

My understanding of momentum within the specific confines of writing a manuscript has been drastically re-shaped throughout my story’s development. I’ve heard the phrase used at nausea throughout my sporting career and I’ve allowed it to temper my own personal understanding of it. 

Within writing, I view momentum as coming back. 

Coming back to the story after training. Coming back after time away competing. Coming back after time with my family. After doubt, tiredness or frustration. 

Allowing the story space to breathe in time away from the laptop has been just as valuable to my manuscript as anything I could conjure up at the keyboard. I’ve realised that progress in this sense is what has allowed a form of momentum, however it may be quantified, to truly take shape. 

This manuscript has evolved over some pretty seismic changes in my life. Whilst simply reaching this point is something I’ll always be proud of, the truth is that it now becomes the skeleton outline of what I truly wish for it to become. The work has often moved long before I could see it materialise in the form of a word count and embracing this new understanding has undoubtedly taken time to truly understand. 

Despite it all, the stage is set for the next chapter in this process;

The Edit.