A few years ago I successfully completed NaNoWriMo (they host a writing project every November that challenges people to write a short novel- 40,000 words). A colleague did it as well and we had fun comparing our total and motivating each other. I felt creative, inspired, and it made me cling to some hope that maybe someday I could become a world-famous novelist whose wardrobe consisted purely of Anthro dresses and was contractually obligated to tour awesome cities for readings. So fun. So unrealistic.
Here's the thing- the process was great, but the product, not so much. I didn't pursue finishing it (40,000 words is not a novel; it's a novella) and I ended up not really liking where I went with it because I felt so pressured into finishing it.
I'm fairly convinced that I'm not going to do it again this year, but the competitive side of me is trying to take over (so typical). So, in order to sort out my super complicated thoughts on this really critical, life-altering decision (I kid), I made one of my favorite things ever:
I still don't know what I'm going to do, but I need to figure out some sort of plan to start writing for fun again (other than blogging). It's like everyone's lotto fantasy- you can never win if you don't play.