So far, about the only thing I have done with success (out of the three things I am signed up for that happens in November, as mentioned in an earlier blog post) is Nanowrimo.
I’m a rebel this year. I am actually not writing a novel. Instead, I am sort of journaling the mood of the day. I am trying to figure out my anxiety and depression and panic attacks and fatigue and everything that comes with it. Just writing. All the crazy things in my head.
The goal is still 50,000 words. The goal is still to see if there can be a book manuscript out of it. (After about a shitload of editing, obviously.)
But it is more about getting stuff out of my head. So I can sleep. So I can try to get back to a normal function again.
Making notes from things that are helping me. Trying to swim my way to the bottom and back up to the surface.
Halfway in – I am kind of feeling more stable about it all. But also wary. I am over halfway in my word count.
As long as the writing is going well, the knitting and the reading isn’t. But at the moment it feels like the writing is of paramount use to me so I can’t be bothered.