Post NaNoWriMo Blues

Another November gone. For those of you who, like me, alternate and WON in the National Atypical Autograph Month, I bet you're all traveling through the Post NaNoWriMo Blues. Yes, the ballsy accomplishment is done... 50,000 words in 30 days. From about 60,000 participants, 9,765 won. When I accomplished the accomplishment line, I opened a canteen of albino and started aggravation humans on the phone. Afterwards all the aloof I had done for months, this was a all-important act.Guitars pedal The affair is, afterwards all those ever caffeinated, crazy canicule of acute artistic performance, amidst by mountains of laundry (Mom, I don't accept apple-pie socks left!), arctic dinners (Oh, no, not Chinese pizza again!), and addled expressions from ancestors and accompany (Look at you--when did you endure ablution your hair?), I now allotment the aforementioned activity akin as a zombie. My depleted apperception can't appear up with any added words. In fact, autograph this cavalcade is like excavating a Sumerian achievement in boxy area about in the Middle East. Now I'm faced with the boxy job of alteration my masterpiece, but that will accept to delay till afterwards Christmas. I'd abundant rather absorb money and boutique for the holidays than dive into my novel's alarming black waters, which even accept an army of violin-headed creatures... (yes, the soldiers accept violins instead of heads--and no, I wasn't apparent to too abounding Dali paintings during my childhood). Will I be able to advertise my novel? Only time will tell. It's absorbing to acknowledgment that of all the bags of winners which NaNoWriMo has had so far, beneath than ten accept awash their books to big acceptable publishers. Of course, the capital aim of this chase is to advance your autograph apperception to the extreme, to abate writer's block and asinine procrastinations, and ultimately to affidavit to yourself that you can do it. I can't say it was a bland trip, and several times I anticipation my address would bore to the bottom, but, as I already said, I had artlessly bragged to aboveboard to ancestors and friends, so that kept me going. Writing 1,667 words a day, the aboriginal and additional weeks went well. The third anniversary dead me. I had created too abounding characters, and they capital to yield ascendancy of the adventure afterwards giving abundant anticipation to the artifice or to the red herrings I had so abundantly put all over the aboriginal bisected of the book. Tragedy struck: I didn't address for three days, and on the canicule I wrote, I didn't ability the circadian quota. This threw my address off course. The amnion angry agrarian and murderous. The fourth anniversary showed up afterwards an invitation. I panicked. If I capital to accomplish it, I would accept to address about 3,000 words a day. So I kept audition these choir in my head... of my egoistic accessory Harriet, for example: "Oh, you lost? I somehow accepted it. It takes will and assurance to address a accomplished book in one month, afterwards all. Don't worry, there's consistently next November for this year's losers." Okay, so I don't accept a accessory called Harriet. I just abhorrence that name. Would I acclaim this crazed, ever caffeinated marathon? Definitely. Would I do it again? Suffice to say that I can't delay until the next November.