Remember that one time when I said I was going to do nanowrimo? Well, I was wrong. I started on November 1st, and I wrote 1,066 words, which is only 600 words short of my quota of the day. Which is no big deal -- what's 600 words when you're writing up to 2,500 words a day?
But the bottom line is, nothing that I wrote spoke to me. I had to face facts: I needed just a hint of a plot. I needed at least one character I cared about. I didn't want to slog through thirty days of writing trash I didn't like.
So I quit. And then my husband tells me that I left my nanowrimo document open and he read it. He said it was so good that I *had* to finish it. He said I was wasting my talent. I was shocked by this, because my first reaction was absolute horror that any human besides me saw such crap writing. For him to think it was good...well, it's flattering. It makes me wonder if perhaps I am too hard on myself and my writing.
But it's not going to make me continue with nanowrimo. My heart's not in it this year. Maybe next year. I will say this: my nemisis Stacey Cochran (I don't know him, and he doesn't know me or have any idea that he is my nemisis) *is* participating in nanowrimo, and that provokes me ALMOST to the point of saying YES! I will beat Stacey Cochran this year! But the truth is, I won't. But next year, Stacey! Next year! You just watch out.