Like last month, I finished on time, but found that I needed a few days to recover. To be honest, I finished at four in the morning of the first after a long day of marathon writing, curled up on irowboat's sofa with a glass of bourbon and the UK version of Being Human playing in the background.
A lot happened this month that got in the way of writing – and that is why the blog has also been sparse. There were family health problems, sick cats, and I took several days off in a small mountain town about an hour away to celebrate my thirtieth birthday. Then, of course, several days to recover my brain cells after successfully celebrating my thirtieth birthday.
Regardless of the reasons and my best intentions, I ended up the month with a twenty thousand word deficit for the last day of August.
Of course, I did it. It was not pretty, but irowboat, coffee, and willpower managed to get me through.
It was a good win, a big win.
But what I count as the best part of all is that no one in my life, not my parents or friends (especially not irowboat), and not even I, had any doubts that I would finish.
It makes sense that at three quarters of the way through this year, I should have found a way to not doubt. And it makes me wonder if it was not an accident that I left so much for the end. I wonder if I wanted to test my resolve and my ability. Or maybe things just got hectic.
It's hard to tell, and I'm still too tired to think or write in anything but circles.
No matter what, I can be happy that I have written eight novels, most of which I am excited to continue editing and polishing. And I am positive now that I can handle writing two novels in November. I mean, twenty thousand words in a day, people.
Thirteen novels, here I come!