I have failed. I didn't win National Novel Writing Month. I have not borne 50000 words over the past 30 days. I, in fact, have not even come all that close. Why?
There are myriad reasons why. Some of them have a bit to do with my lack of a work ethic, and my love for reality television/pie baking/my dog. Some them have to do with real-life commitments, like Thanksgiving travel and laundry. Some of them have to do with current events. In the wake of Ferguson, who the fuck cares about my novel, really?
There are also less atmospheric reasons - poor planning, opting to blog about the experience when I'm not a very experienced blogger, time constraints.
But no matter. I've failed. Maybe you have too. Maybe there are things that we could do better next year, or maybe NaNoWriMo just doesn't fit us quite right.
No matter. Whether you won or lost, I'm betting that you're further along than you would have been otherwise. I am, too. This week I'll be looking at some alternatives to NaNoWriMo, but for today, open up that document and continue along on your story.
November's for law-abiding participants. December's for outlaws. The good kids have gone home to bed and the fuck-ups are still at it, laughing too loudly and spilling their drinks and creating gorgeous explosions. This month will be a party, I promise.
Cheers to that!
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