I did it! Fifty-thousand words in thirty days, 11,000 of which were in the last 3 days. It was an amazing, come-from-behind victory.
Not to pat myself on the back or anything, but I feel so proud of myself. I had no idea I had it in me, and I really feel like I accomplished something. I have to admit, though, that I'm feeling a bit of the NaNo blues. Tomorrow marks a week since I have written anything, and it's starting to wear on me. I feel so unproductive. The hardest part about writing for me is maintaining a balanced routine.
You know how when you're on a diet, and you don't eat anything but boiled kale and carrot sticks and then you go out and run three miles, and you do it for six days in a row? Me neither. But I hear, that after that, you have a bad day where your child screams for 57 minutes straight, you fight with your husband about who must have stolen your credit card and mysteriously charged a $143 purchase at Target, and you somehow manage to burn your boiled kale. And then you eat everything in the pantry. Including the week-old bag of stale Cheetos and a jar of molasses.
Not that I've done that, or anything.
I'm that way about dieting, but I'm that way about writing too. It's feast or famine. It's "I'm busy becoming a novelist for a month, so we'll eat cereal for every meal" while I write, or it's nothing. I'm left wondering what to do now. I don't want to quit writing, but I can't maintain the break-neck pace of November. And I have to work off the extra 5 pounds (okay, seven) that I put on while sitting on my ass all day, typing furiously.
So my next goal (and it may have to wait until after the holidays), is to keep a balanced life, but one that includes exercise and writing. And I have an inkling that it will be way harder than writing 50,000 words in a month.