Utter failure. That is really the only way to describe this year’s NaNoWriMo attempt. Illness struck quickly, taking a week, and then apathy swooped in and killed any desire to continue the trek onward. Really, does the world need my books? Are they really worth anything (not necessarily talking monetary value here)? I’ve been really delving into those questions a lot lately, among others.
One thing I can say about this epic car wreck of a failure is it did open my eyes: I have myself spread too thin and I’m not functioning in a productive manner. I need to break some bad habits and get back to being a functioning person, rather than responding to crisis after crisis and just generally being unhappy.
So instead of pushing myself to pick up NaNoWriMo, I stopped and looked at my environment. After reading “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying,” I knew addressing that could be a major first step, so I have begun tidying to some sizable success: my desk is cleared, my paper trail is down, my office less crowded with junk, and I am feeling better about life and myself. So I hope to continue that, further improving my environment and reinforcing more productive habits. No matter how bad or hard the workday has been, I want to accomplish one or two home projects each evening, rather than being a bump on the futon.
As for writing, I’m going to ease back into a short story I’ve been dragging my feet on and pickup edits; hopefully, I will be able to reestablish good writing habits to go along with the good living habits. And perhaps I will also pick up excitement after the mental tearing apart I did of everything I’ve ever wrote. After all if I can’t feel value in what I’m working on, the world doesn’t need or want it. No matter what, I will keep writing because I can’t exist without it; however, my goals might change.
So here’s hoping a leopard can change its spots, and I don’t lose my way upon the path — ending up smashed into a pole by a cornfield.