I don’t want July 1st to come. I want to hold onto the last shards of June and continue with my stories. Unfortunately it’s been too little too late most months, I think the average monthly word count (discounting the completed novels) must be hovering around the 3,000 mark.
There are so many questions I can ask myself and there’s always introspection to be done that most probably will reveal characteristics and traits that I would much rather not know about. I already know enough of my flaws (don’t play cards with me- I’m a bad loser and an even worse winner), do I have any redeeming qualities at all?
I thought I was strong but I’ve allowed a surprising number of events to kick me around this year. It’ not as bad as the 80-pound weakling beaten to a pulp but there was a sucker punch or two that has left me reeling. Teetering on the line between Cry-Baby Land and Tough-Girl Universe, there were times when I stumbled into Cry-Baby Land.
I wish I had completed more and put more effort into my writing, I certainly feel like I’ve let all my WordPress friends down as they encouraged me. I feel like I’ve given up some times but always looked forward to the beginning of a new month and a new story. Maybe it really isn’t expected to have finished all the novels because that is a crazy writing schedule to carry on top of life and work and I’m not versatile enough to be able to write a roughly 100-page novel in 12 different genres. There has to be at least one that just won’t work. Apparently there are quite a few more.
Maybe my expectations are too rigid; I would have been happy for and a teeny bit jealous of anyone else in my position. So my stories didn’t really work out. So I had to back away from the project sometimes to give myself a breather. And I’ve finally learned when to call it quits because something is just not working. For anyone else, I’d applaud their wisdom, encourage them to continue on and be their tiny voice of optimism when needed. Why can’t I be that kind and supportive to myself? Instead, I stand over my poor little hunched back as I slog through writer’s block or antipathy for the genre that month with a wicked little riding crop.
I should be thrown in prison for self-assault and abuse! No wonder I haven’t been able to succeed I wanted to. It’s time to focus on my successes and the few stories that I’ve started but still are sticking with me. It’s been a much more enriching and rewarding year than I ever could have imagined. Sometimes the near-successes are more important that the complete successes.
12 Novels in 12 Months 