It is the first day in December. After four weeks of glee and guilt in equal measure, NaNoWriMo is over. I no longer have to worry about my word count, or how many days I have left, or how shockingly behind I am.
I haven’t “won” NaNo this year – I only managed to get to 30,000 words – so you might think that I would be dispirited and put off from writing anything else for at least six months. Yet here I am typing this, dragging my laptop to and from work on the train, on 1st December.
The challenge of NaNo is to write at least 50,000 words. What I realised about half way through the month, when I was still only a little behind in my word score, is that I didn’t want to write 1,667 words a day. Maybe I can get to that incredibly productive place, in time, once I’ve had some practise and built myself up to it. But I’ve never written on a daily basis before, I wasn’t producing good writing and I couldn’t keep up with the pace needed. I’m also a terrible over-editor: I can’t send a text without reading it over twice and checking that it can’t be interpreted in the wrong way or that I haven’t left out an apostrophe.