I'm really glad I had the sense not to try to commit myself to NaNoWriMo, though I offer a heartfelt "congratulations" and an equally heartfelt "I'm jealous" to all my NaNoWriMo writing friends' success stories.
I did write an awful lot of words in November - and I even got paid for them. But my goal of using the month to kick it into high gear on novel revisions (see NaNoYeahRiMo) went painfully unfulfilled. Seriously - instead of revising more this month, I revised much, much less. In fact, I bet I haven't opened the manuscript five times. That's pathetic, isn't it?
All-right, all-right, this is turning into one of those all-too-common writer-kicking-myself-while-I'm-down posts. (I need to pop over to Natalie Whipple's blog to build up my store of Happy Writers' Society-esque happy thoughts.) What makes us writers so prone to self-flagellation? Could it be the excruciating levels of perfectionism/introspection/self-awareness that cause us to write in the first place?
Makes sense, I guess. Anyway, I'm glad December's almost here. Maybe I'll be less inclined to beat myself up for lack of productivity. Or maybe the holidays will give me enough of a break from the day-to-day that I can actually be productive with my revisions.
Maybe my husband will even give me the gift of time for Christmas.
Hint, hint. *winks*