My first attempt at NaNoWriMo in November was a complete disaster. I only met my goal the first two days and wound up with a measly 5,000 words. I’ve been trying to build on that starting point and have been failing.
It’s more than a bit ridiculous. I’ve been working on the skeleton of this story for over a year now and have yet to make any decent headway in actually getting the damn thing written.
It’s the lulls between the exciting stuff that I seem to have trouble with, which makes sense. I just wish I could write like I used to in school. It seemed so much easier back then because I had class and things I really didn’t want to do, and writing and reading were these amazing escapes for me. They’re still an escape, but…I don’t know. Everything about me is different now.
But I need to finish this story. And I need to write the two sequels. Because I’ve never stuck with an original story this long and because my life will never be what I want it to be and writing is all I have. And it matters to me. And the characters matter.
Le sigh. There are entire universes inside my head and I can’t even begin to write them all down.