...And boy, do I feel sheepish. (Sorry, recent pun wars with my brother-in-law have left me making puns where no puns should dare to tread.)
My crazy year, you ask? It just keeps getting crazier. The new job I took this summer? Quit. The old job I quit? Back in. I'm staying home during the week with the kids, working in the ER on weekends, and writing like a fiend. And I'm loving every minute of it.
I just finished NaNoWriMo as a winner. I wrote 50,596 words in thirty days. Crazy, but true. I have no idea if they make sense or not, but I like where the story is going, and I can't wait to finish it (which will probably take me another 20,000 words). Then I'll dive in, edit the heck out of it, and start submitting. Unless, of course, I've got an agent by then. Here's hoping.
My question on my last blog post went unanswered by myself for months. Sorry about that. But it's kind of a moot point right now, since the words are flowing out my fingertips. And I'm loving that, too. It feels good. Sometimes I have a tough time forcing myself to write, but NaNoWriMo showed me that I can do it. I wrote every day except one (sick kid kept me from getting to the computer-- really didn't want to get vomit on my keyboard), and there were days I didn't feel like writing, but I did it anyway. I'm finding that this writing thing is really important to me. I hope someday to say I'm a published author. But even if I'm not published, I can truly say I enjoy the journey.
After months of writing, form rejections, and dashed hopes, it's a powerful thing to believe that writing just to write is OK, too. Crazy, no?