Still writing, but hating myself while doing so

Oh, yeah, I'm still writing, and I'm still behind. I'll finish this year if I can crank out 2100 words a day for the next 10 days, and with a Holiday and two weekend days, I have time to catch up.

I dove into the writing yesterday after being blocked and only getting a few hundred words a day for most of last week. I realized why, of course, because it's the Mid Novel Blah.

About halfway through a novel, you question yourself.

I suck.

No one will want to read this.

My characters are boring.

I'm not getting these ideas across.

I should give up and read a GOOD book.

I'm stupid for trying.

It hits every novel at the half way point, especially when the novel has gone off the rails and isn't anywhere close to the plot you started with. This novel was headed to a place where Our Heroes come upon an Army base where the people inside have decided to follow orders to the letter, refusing to see that the world around them has changed, and they are doing horrible things because they were ordered to.

Instead, my character haven't been able to get away from their camp because of a group of people we know nothing about. They may be evil, or they may be just like our heroes, worried they are under attack and lashing out first.

When a novel gets its own plot, you go with it. It also is social commentary without me thinking about it...an enemy we know nothing about and fear because we don't know about them? Ring a bell with anyone?

My characters are coming into focus, doing things I didn't expect, and changing as they go on this journey, just like me.

When I get to the end, I still may not have a novel anyone wants to read, but I WILL finish it. I WILL complete this race. I may not be first, but I WILL get done.

I won't let the doubt beat me.