I’ve written a few pages here and there for a total of thirty pages. That’s 7,500 words towards the NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000. I’ve accepted that I possibly won’t make that goal by the end of my 30 day sprint, which is December 3 since I got off to a late start. (I’m not adverse to surprising myself on that, either!)
And yes, I am aware that this speaks volumes about my work habits and all that jazz. I’ve done this type of thing before: run out of steam, and dropped out of the game with lots of ammo for beating myself up. Self sabotage can be a bitch. I know why I do it, been working on that angle for years now. It’s tired and worn thin.
But this time it’s different. It feels different.
This time, I don’t really care very much about whether or not I reach the prescribed goal in the set time. All I know is that I am writing. And, surprisingly, I am having fun writing.
Writing doesn’t feel like a burden and the words have been flowing effortlessly. The draft has been a bit slower because the enormity of the project tends to overwhelm me, but I’ve got my outline. And I’ve managed to continue with the daily blog posts, that seem to be writing themselves.
If nothing else, there no longer seems to be enough time in the day to do everything that excites me and maintain ‘life’ as I know it.
And maybe that’s the point: letting go of the routines and roles that have defined me frees me to be more of who I am, not what I do.