I love National Novel Writing Month. I love the challenge. I love that I had always wanted to write a novel, and when I found this challenge, I did it.
Just like that. Like the challenge was made for me.
I discovered NaNoWriMo four years after its inception in 2003 when it was still new. I’ve participated and won every year since.
This year isn’t going so well. I stepped down as Municipal Liaison for our region which I had been doing since 2008 because I really needed a break, but it seems to have backfired on me.
I don’t feel rested, relaxed, and excited to join events as a participant instead of a leader. Now part of that is just Life, but the other part is my introversion flaring up. I fear the growing group of people. I’m not going to any events. I’m comparing my former leadership to the current one, which is a horrible idea because, well, duh.
I haven’t been writing. I stopped on day four at 1,752 words thinking I would restart the next day with a bit more prep, and that was it. I haven’t gotten back to it yet.
I haven’t even written here, which is an equal disappointment.
Of the 313 days of the year so far, I’ve written 277 of them. That means there’s a month plus six of days I haven’t written any fiction. I kind of wish I hadn’t calculated that out, to be honest.
There are 52 days left in the year. I’ve got 52 days to shape up.
Wish me luck!