Towards the end of last month, I had another “I’m a terrible writer because I can’t reach my goals and I’m never going to finish this book. I’m a horrible person” slump. I tend to set some pretty high goals for myself that I know if I just sit down and actually write, I can reach them. Of course, I set those goals when I’m feeling pretty productive and optimistic and forget that Edgar is almost a toddler and Bartholomew is still on his way. Which, of course, means that in general, I do not have the ideal circumstances on a daily basis for reaching my theoretically doable goals.
Anyway, this particular round, I was reading some old entries from my 8th English journal. Pretty much any entry that was a free write was either about the novel I was writing then or about how I wanted to be a writer or editor. So then I had to ask myself whether or not I loved writing now as I did as an 8th grader.
And the answer is yes. But I am too caught up in trying to make it as a professional to enjoy it.
I told myself that for April, I had permission to write whatever I felt like writing. So that’s what I’ve done this month. I set a low word count goal for Camp NaNoWriMo and told myself to just write.
The first week or so I had to fight myself to write on any sort of consistency, but I counted my journal, brainstorming, actual story, etc. And then I found myself looking for a few minutes here and there to jot down ideas.
Tomorrow is the last day of Camp. I won’t reach my word count goal.* But I still won. I’m excited to write again.
*Update: April 30, 2017
I actually did reach my word count goal today so I spirit-won AND won-won! Needless to say, I’m even more stoked about my writing progress this past month. It’s nice to know that I am capable of achieving my goals despite real life responsibilities.