So, every year since 2005 when I discovered it, I’ve participated in National Novel Writing Month. It is a mad dash to write 50,000 words in the month of November. And for 16 years, I hit that goal. Sometimes I scraped through at the tail end of the month but more often than not I was done well ahead of time. This is the first year I didn’t even come close to hitting the goal.

I clung to hope for much of the month that I could get back on track but life had its own plan. I did make some good progress on two of the books I am releasing next year. And they will get done on time, but the part of me that hates failing is still a little wounded. But, I also have to acknowledge that this isn’t a competition. Not really. It’s only with myself and I am learning to be kinder to myself these days. It is a hard thing to lower the expetations I’ve set for myself, but I’m not in the same place I was back in 2005. Or even 2015.

So where do I go from here? I give myself a moment to feel the sadness of not acheiving something I set out to do and then I move forward. I finish the books I started and move on to the next project with the hope that next year I’ll be back on track.