Each year, my experience of November is twisted and deformed into a dreamlike state lasting 30 days. During this period, I not only manage to write my daily word target (my minimum is 1,200 and that’s on really busy days), but unlike the expectations I don’t have to sacrifice any other activity. November? That was a stroll through the park.
Twisted and deformed.
The truth is after those 30 days, the rough edges are quickly erased. Somehow I seem to forget what I had to do to pull it off. Thanks to this memory wipe-out, I revisit the challenge of combining writing with spending time with my husband, singing, choir practice, gym, my physio exercises, social get togethers, and household thingies each year. By the time it’s Christmas, I look back at a wonderful busy successful month, wondering why I can’t do something similar throughout the year.
During the first week of writing, the adrenaline of pulling it off gave me lots of energy to begin the second week. (Although the second week was introduced as the hell week, but I can say that wasn’t the case for me.) Writing the words is hardly ever the problem. I remember saying Time would be my problem, but that’s not really the case either.
My main problem is my own inadequate skills of setting priorities and thinking I can handle it all. I’m pretty sure I can make choices when it’s necessary. I did do so in the past and I’ve done so rather recently. But behold the moment I think combining one or two activities is doable after a days work, which I’ll do even when it’s not the most sensible thing to do.
Is this new?
I wish it were my epiphany, but I know I am the problem. I refuse to accept my limitations and learn from past mistakes. I soldier on, refusing to accept that catching some sleep is better than sitting behind a screen to write.
Lucky me, I’ve got a body that has learnt to take control whenever I’m neglecting it. During the third week on my day off, obviously, I ran out of juice. My bed lured me back in during the afternoon, it sent me out to the living room for dinner before it called me back again (but I had managed to write my 1,200 words).
I wonder, as I write this whether it’ll enable me to learn from my experiences and change my ways next year?