My NaNo lies over the ocean, my NaNo lies over the sea, my NaNo lies over the ocean, my NaNo may be the death of me!
I’m not disappointed or freaking out or aggrieved by my writing. It’s just always there. Twenty-three days in; every day; rain or shine; work or family; eating; sleeping; it’s always there. Like a monkey on my back! I put the pressure on myself, yes, but it is strange and wonderful to feel so wrapped up in the process. Stalked is more apt. It’s just, well, sometimes you gotta take a break, (he said with a guilt-laden tone to his voice).
This morning, I just crossed the 40,000 word mark. I am closing in on the 50,000 word goal. It won’t be a problem, since I still have a way to go before I finish the plot. I am near the final bits of the story, closing in on the “big moment” and the necessary resolutions. The tale of my hero will surely come to an end, albeit a relatively happy one, (perhaps), sometime in the next few days with some focused writing time.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving and I wrote not a single word or sentence fragment. Nothing. (Texts don’t count, right?) It felt weird, like I was letting myself and my characters down. It’s just one of those things in life; sometimes you only have so much time and energy to go around. So, I will double up over the next week and wrap this thing up. I’m not going to feel bad about not writing. It was one day. Just too much to fit in with all the cleaning and cooking and family and cleaning up afterwards and food comas!
But what if one day makes the difference? (That sounds like a tagline for a nonprofit, doesn’t it?)
OK, so, I guess I feel a little guilty.