Fuck, this 3 Day Novel contest thing is killing me. Basically wasted day one through procrastination. Got to noon on day two and had two pages and around 600 words done.

Tonight, I vowed an all-nighter but I’m stuffed and have hit a wall. I’m calling it a day for now.


37 pages.

9,358 words.

Officially the longest coherent thing I’ve ever written (nanowrimo’s efforts don’t count as it was all over the place and basically a jumble of scenes needing to be put together with a narrative). If nothing else, I can pat myself on the back for that.

Now, bed. Tomorrow, up early, 60 pages, and 10k words or more.

Yikes! Why do I do this to myself?!

I'm a 30-something female seeking to create a great work of art... or at least something people will actually want to read. Is it the same thing?
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Thinker of random thoughts. Writer of random dreams.

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