Well, this is embarrassing

I am mortified to announce that this year I failed at NaNoWriMo. Failed. A word like a lead weight – nay, like the sound of Sisyphus’ rock rolling back down the hill and coming to rest with a crunching thud of inevitability.

Ok, that’s enough of that. At times – indeed, most of the time – novel writing does feel like pushing a boulder up a hill, but the important difference is that my boulder isn’t going to roll back down the hill when I get to the top. It’s just that that particular when always seems to be in the distant future.

In November I wrote 29,136 words, which is quite a few words. Any other month of the year I’d be darned pleased with that many words. I also met some very friendly writers and discovered an excellent tea shop, none of which would have been possible without NaNoWriMo.

If I sound like I’m making excuses, I am. To be fair, the odds were not in my favour, and a day’s cancelled holiday at the end of the month put the final spadeful of earth on the grave of my 50k word count. But ultimately it’s my fault. Too many days off, too many thoughts that I would catch up mañana, and ultimately giving in too easily to the voice that says ‘It’s only a silly target. It doesn’t actually matter if you miss it.’

Actually, it does matter, because instead of a finished draft I still have a boulder to push up a bleeding mountain.

Oh well. More importantly, my total word count is now 75k-ish, and I reckon it’s still a reasonable guess that I will finish on 90k. My original self-imposed deadline was Christmas, which is now looking eminently plausible. If I miss that one too, it really will be embarrassing.