I wrote like a madwoman for 30 straight days thanks to NaNoWriMo. It was my third year participating, and let me tell you, everyone is right when they say practice helps. It really does. I wrote about 3,000 words a day. Consistently. I did it through holidays, sicks days with the kids, sick me, and the thousand other obstacles that pop up like whack-a-mole.
But I finished. 75,785 words.
I never felt so proud. I wanted to celebrate, feeling ecstatic that I’m moving forward with my goals. Unfortunately, I spiked a fever that evening and my celebratory dinner had to be postponed.
Which brings me to my next point. I feel like I matured this round as a writer. I’m never going to have perfect circumstances in which I can write. There’s always going to be bullshit. But I pushed on. I met my deadline. I got it done. That’s a first for me. That’s why I wanted to celebrate. I felt like I advanced in my writer’s journey. I’m making progress. I might actually get to do something with this love I have for writing.
Of course the first draft is a tiny step in the process, but it’s a groundbreaking step.