A Blessedly Slow NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo feels differently this year. I just crept over 10,000 words, and probably won't clear 20,000. And definitely not 25,000. It's been a good exercise in writerly discipline, as always, but I don't feel the compulsion of past years, when I absolutely, positively, had to write every minute I was on my morning and evening train, and felt guilty if I didn't slip out of the office for an afternoon writing session several days each week.

Not that I haven't been productive--I've finished two medium-length stories, have another that is half-finished and that I can't figure out how to conclude, and have one that I'm working on right now. (I quite like this one--it's told from the perspective of the bank examiner in It's a Wonderful Life, an exceptionally minor character who was on screen for no more than two minutes in the film.)

All in all, it's a lot more writing than I otherwise would have gotten done in two weeks. But I mercifully haven't had the obsession with cranking up my word count that I had last year--during which time Julie said I was rather tired and crabby all the time. So I've been in a better mood this year, have been able to take the occasional nap on the evening train, and haven't had to completely abandon the serious reading I usually do on the morning train--just this week I devoured the copies of The Atlantic, Poets & Writers and The2ndHand that have been languishing on my nightstand for the last few weeks.

This will probably be the lowest output I've had in three years of NaNoWriMo, but in a lot of ways it's been the most enjoyable one I've had so far.