The Six Ws… or, What Went Wrong, and What Went Write… ha!

I had planned to do the novel writing month for a while, but it wasn’t until October 31 that I really convinced myself that it was going to happen.  I was tempted to give up before I started, thinking it would be too hard–blah, blah, blah–but then I remembered how much I hyped myself up for it, and started thinking about how many other times I’ve said I was going to do something and then didn’t.

Then, I started to think about everyone else who says they are going to do something and then doesn’t.  It happens all the time.  Did I want to be one of those people?

I knew this was it.  I was going to use the month of November to prove to myself that I could actually write something decent of some significant length.  I want to be a writer — and if I chickened out before it started, well, it would become quite clear that a writer is just not what I am.  At that point, I made a deal with myself:  if I didn’t do it, no more writing, ever.  (This might seem harsh or unreasonable, but I was going to let myself off the hook.  It would mean I could allow myself to stop feeling guilty whenever an idea didn’t get written.)

So on November 1 I actually sat down and wrote, and it didn’t go well but I kept at it.  As the week went on I realized it wasn’t as hard as I thought and I managed to stay above the daily word count goals.

The second week was harder, and third was torture.  The fourth was sporadic, until it fizzled out over Thanksgiving weekend and I got stuck at the 40,000 word mark until yesterday, when the month ended and I was 10,000 words short of the goal.

So if the deal to myself was that zero words in November meant I could no longer pursue writing, and 50,000 meant I was on my way… once again, I’m left somewhere in the middle.  Which is hard for me to deal with.

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