I hate to bail out on anything I’ve committed to. But you know what? I’m just too tired to deal with the stress of worrying whether my word count is going to come out right on November 30th.
It’s kind of too bad, because I have a novel that I’ve been working on, and I put it in the deep freeze to age a little. Then when I got it out again, I realized it wasn’t the novel I wanted at all. I mean, the premise and the characters and the story arc are all meaningful, but the approach is all wrong. So it needs to be re-written from scratch.
I’ve actually made a stab at it, thinking I’d do it for this year’s NaNoWriMo. But I’m not up to it. My liver hurts, courtesy of a Cytomegalovirus infection I contracted several years ago. I’m getting a cold, thanks to self-imposed stress. I’m whiney and all I want to do is crawl under the covers and sleep it off.
You know what? That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to be kind to myself for a change. It’s a habit I’d like to cultivate.
See you next year, NaNo. Maybe.
