In the past month, I've written about 6,000 words on the current novel. At my target rate, that's about a week's worth of work in a month's time. So, clearly I have not reached my writing goals for the month of May.
So why am I so happy?
Well, rewrites of an earlier chapter went far better than I expected with wonderful comments from my crit group. The chapter accomplishes everything I'd hoped it would and I feel like the plot is structurally sound.
I've figured my way out of 2 plot holes and have a clearer sense of how the final 1/4 of the story needs to unfold.
I've written half a dozen poems last month that I'm pleased with and feeling more and more confident in my critique skills.
All this and dealing with a bout of pneumonia/bronchitis/and/or general ick that forced me to miss a week of work and become closely acquainted with my sofa and gravity.
All in all, not the May I expected, but a May to be pleased with. After all, while goals are *useful*, they are only a target. Nothing rides on my hitting the goals, other than my own sense of accomplishment--all my deadlines are self-imposed. Perhaps if life is kind enough to lead me to become a published author, that will change, but for now, I write for me. And it is a joy.
May it always be so.
Nice to read your report on your novel, but sorry to hear you haven't been feeling well. I've been behind and NFW myself, out of work the past few days.
A dozen poems in a month is cooking.
Beats how my May turned out, for sure...ReplyDelete