When NaNoWriMo finished, I raised a glass of prosecco alone in my flat celebrating the ending of it all. It was a really long month this year, and it was really hard for a lot of reasons, and some of those reasons I don't know.
It has been over for a little less than a week, and whilst there isn't the constant stress that invades all of life, I've also only made myself sit and write twice this week and I miss the social elements of write-ins, because whilst chatting with people at work is nice, it's also not quite as sociable as I want to be. It's not talking to writers about their novels and then encouraging them to keep going. It's certainly not everyone being almost as invested in everyone else's project as the person writing it.
Although we haven't had our Thank Goodness It's Over party, it feels like I have my weekends back.
This year was my wordiest year so far, managing to write over 101k, and I will hopefully write something more on that later. I managed two 20k days, which was amazing, and I also kept it together through a month where I felt like my anxiety was pulling me in a million different directions. Despite the overwhelming urge to sleep all of the time, I got up every day, I did my job and I also worked on my novel. I was an ML, I supported my writers, I ran Twitter word sprints and supported other writers and I was all over the Facebook pages for advice, the moments when people forgot words and other general cheerleading. Somehow managed to avoid ever writing a blog post in that, which isn't like me during November.
The upshot of it all is that it feels like only yesterday that NaNoWriMo started, but it seemed to take forever to come to an end, and as a team we needed it to end, but we also didn't want it to. I feel really conflicted about it, I feel disappointed that I haven't been writing as much as I was during November, but I am also so so glad that the amount of stress I was under has decreased, because I'm not sure how long I would have been able to keep going through that.
Catch you later.
