November is over. (Note: when you have a nine to five in the real world, it doesn’t matter what month it is.) Some tried to undertake the gigantic task of writing a whole novel. I tried to face editing with a new approach, a meaningful one. And that was a gigantic task on its own.
I think I learned more about myself this month than I did revise. I suppose that’s a decent thing, but it’s no less difficult. I’ve come to a lot of conclusions about who I am as both a person and a writer, and some of them are as hard to deal with as writing a novel in a month.
Because I’m in a really fragile mood, I’m going to step away from the keyboard. Blogging while upset is like driving while drunk: someone is going to get hurt, and if that doesn’t happen it’s almost worse because you’ll never learn your lesson that it’s a bad idea. I need to take one gigantic step back before I can restart. If I decide to restart.
Maybe I need to run a marathon backwards.
M
