Last night in a conversation with friends about a triathalon they are thinking about participating in, I commented how I can’t even run a mile. A friend who smokes then noted that he can run better than that…I really need to get on this cardio bandwagon and whip these lungs into shape.
So. Motivation. Don’t think it’s going to happen today. (In my defense, I ran yesterday and the day before!)
Actually I’m suffering from a general motivational crisis since last night, not only in respect to this running business. I only wrote 1228 words yesterday before I ventured out to spend time with friends over dinner, a league soccer game (watching, obviously), beer, water at Applebees while others ate, and two games of pool. I returned home around midnight and felt little guilt and some apprehension at not hitting 5000.
My dilemma is this:
No matter how much I (sometimes) want to write this story, that goal will always fall short of my desire to participate in life.
I don’t remember what I forecast my NaNoWriMo future to be after I finished last year, but two-point-five days into take 2, I’m thinking there won’t be a take 3.
Yes, writing should be more of a priority than I make it. NaNoWriMo reminds me of that, which is why I participate. But it’s feeling like more of a chore this month. Perhaps I haven’t done a good enough job of stowing my internal editor, and I’m trying too hard to write a coherent draft.
I’m torn. Should I devote this month to working on the story in the way that’s working right now and allowing the possibility that I won’t “win” and have a complete novel at the end. I might have 50,000 words, but if it’s fragmented, that doesn’t count. Or should I remind myself that when I decide to do something, it will get done, and so make this happen.
It seems early to be having this conversation.
Maybe it will be easier to write after I move next week and am juggling job interviews, unpacking, and possibly working.