I bailed on National Novel Writing Month on the first day, having written just under 700 words.
I felt like there were too many other interesting bits of writing that I wanted to do, including continuing to edit last year's novel.
And then my life became insane. I've been really hard on myself for all the things I'm not doing lately. This week, though, I've had two people who are very important to me (my coach/therapist and my friend DM) listen to me unload and then tell me that I would have every right to feel overwhelmed with a fraction of what I've got on my plate.
I tend to be hard on myself because I don't work outside the home right now. If I don't go to a job I feel like I should just sail through my other commitments. It felt really good to list everything going on in my life and have two women I respect offer support and sympathy. I've decided that I need to cut myself a lot more slack.
I can do NaNoWriMo next year. I'm OK with that. But I did feel a pang when my son sent me this video:
NaNoWriMo was a fun kind of crazy. I just couldn't let the rest of my life go to do it this year.