|Last day of November on the driveway.|
As of midnight last night, NaNoWriMo is officially over. It was my first time participating, and, I have to tell you, it didn't feel so different from any other month.
It was a shock to wake up this morning, grab my phone, and see 12/1/15 on the screen. How did we get to December? No, really. How? It's safe to say I've written my year away. It's been worthwhile, for the most part. But it's been a year of bikes, shootouts, and betrayals, to be sure.
The goal for NaNo is 50K words. I met that and then some, what with Snow as a side project and some dabbling in my Super Secret Project, which you'll learn about next year. I had hoped that Smoke would be complete after those 50K, but this is a story that won't be rushed. This isn't an installment for the casual and critical readers, but for the true fans.
Many a night this month I found that I'd used all my words while writing. And basic conversation left me feeling like a lead-tongued Neanderthal. Me want dinner. Hungry. You do that, you know. You can use all your mental energy and then just become a slug.
So I don't think I'll attempt NaNo at any point in the future. Who knows what I'll be writing next year at this time, but it's safe to say there's no force more encouraging than my own inner critic who drives me hard and berates me constantly.
Okay, enough complaining. I do love my job. Right now I'm sitting on 115K words of Smoky goodness, with a few more miles to go before I sleep.
In summary: whatever. I'm out of words again.