The essay is done. Finished. Over. You don’t know what I went through for that essay. It was both the most stressful and exciting assignment I have ever done. It was tough. It took a lot of work. But when it finally began to come together in draft 3 at 1.30am, it felt worth it.
On Wednesday night I hated that essay. I was half-way through the second draft and I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know what it was about any more. It was too hard. I couldn’t do it.
Then I had a breakthrough. Ready to give up and start again in the morning, a plan emerged in my brain and I started typing. The third draft seemed to write itself. I managed to stay conscious until 4.30am, afraid to stop in case that stopped it making sense. But at 4.30 I couldn’t stay awake any longer. I collapsed into bed.
In the morning, I didn’t want to look at the essay. What if what had seemed brilliant to me in the sleep-deprived early hours turned out to be nothing more than the ramblings of a maniac in the cold light of Thursday? But it was due the following day so I didn’t have a choice. I had to finish it.
And finish it I did.
What I’d written between 1.30 and 4.30am that Wednesday night (Thursday morning if you want to be accurate) was, by some miracle, still good after a decent amount of sleep. And now it’s out of my hands.
I’ve been trying not to think about it. To escape, I’ve gone to Manchester to stay with J for reading week. We went to a fireworks display on Saturday night, had curry in the curry mile on Monday, which also happened to be Eid, and yesterday we visited my Grandma, who lives in Oldham.
Despite all this excitement, I’ve managed to write about 2000 words a day for NaNoWriMo and am beginning to catch up.
But what’s my greatest achievement of reading week so far? I finished the hat.