Since January, I’ve written approximately 41,000 words.
Six months. 41,000 words. Not really something to trumpet for someone who often considered finishing NaNoWriMo an accomplishment.
And while I don’t want to take away the fact that yes, this totally is an accomplishment, it’s dangerous at the same time. Because, if I’m going to be wholly honest with all of you, I’ve never once gone back to rewrite (or even re-read) anything I’ve ever written for NaNo. And usually, when I do, I find what I’ve written to be total shit. Complete and total shit.
But this? This story is different. I’m not writing this for speed, I’m writing this because I need to. Because I love to write. And it’s because of this, because of the fact that if I don’t feel like writing I don’t feel like I’m a complete failure, that I feel as if this project may actually go somewhere.
And now, some words of wisdom from stage and film’s Lin-Manuel Miranda:
I don’t care that this tweet is three years old, it rings so true it kind of hurts.
So here I go. Back to the writing I go.