Well. Shit. I tried. It's now January. It's now 2012. And I didn't manage to finish my novel. You'd think with all my frantic interest in the new protagonist, I'd have rushed him headlong into a climax. Yeah, no. Sorry. I feel like crap about it.
I managed to get about 15,000 words into it. And, to my credit, the plot moves. That's good. So, I suppose, I can give myself a pat for trying or at least churning out a little. Where's my ribbon? Does everyone win?
I'm told I should be compassionate with myself. It was the holidays. This is true. I struggled to sit down at the computer, this is true. Summer finally bloomed here and after weeks under clouds, I couldn't bear to stay inside. So be it. I'm alive. The new year is good. My goal post has moved a little but it hasn't disappeared.
Oh, and I started a new blog. Is that appropriate? What the hell do I keep this one for? I may need to politely redirect you now. If you please... megandoylecorcoran.com. See you there. And Happy New Year!
