Driving to dinner to celebrate her birthday on Friday evening, my partner asked how my writing was going since returning from a six day trip to attend a family funeral.
Me: Slow, it’s been hard getting back in the grove.
Annie: That’s understandable.
Me: I’ve come to accept that I won’t write 50,000 words, and I’m okay with that.
She slowed to stop at a red light, then turned to look at me with disbelief.
Annie: Really?! You? I know you, and you won’t settle for anything less.
Okay, she has a point. I’m known to be a wee bit of an overachiever. After this weekend, I’m up to 17K words, but I’m still way behind the 8 ball.
As if being behind wasn’t hard enough, this year I’m trying my hand at writing fiction instead of memoir. As a pantser, these characters seem to have minds of their own. I’m often surprised and unsure about where to go next.
Even more reason to press on to see what happens, right?!
How’s your NaNo going?