It’s the last day of NaNo today and my word count still lingers at 41, 000 words. Not because it’s impossible to write nine thousand words in a day but because I’ve decided not even to attempt it. That feels very strange because writing was always something that seemed possible until now.
This probably hinges on living somewhere with very little physical space to write undisturbed plus the added addition of very little head space to retreat to, and the fact that round about the beginning of week four, when this change of residence took place, a few events occurred that made my confidence pack up its bags and go on holiday.
Before this post throws cold water over everybody else’s celebrations there will be a positive ending. Promise. Saying that, where writing is concerned, feelings of bleakness and disheartenment still reign supreme but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up completely. There’s always something that can be done even if it means taking a step backwards.
Although I felt awful about writing for the last couple of weeks it was never a possibility to just stop completely and take up embroidery or long distance running. It was more about setting more reachable goals and promising to work harder, and to take it all more seriously (in the hopes that then other people will too). My word count still lingers at 41, 000 words and it’s going to stay there until next November, hopefully reminding me of that.
How did everyone else do? I know there are loads of you out there who are over 50,000 already.