I hate quitting. I hate it so much that I rarely do it. In high school, or maybe it was middle school, I was given the option to continue cheerleading or to play basketball. It was one or the other, not both. Basketball was, and always will be, my love, so I quit cheerleading. At first, I felt really weird about it. I had that stupid uniform that my mom paid for hanging in my closet, a glowing reminder of my failure. Or was it?
After quitting NaNoWriMo officially on Saturday, after receiving lots of amazing advice from writers and friends and friendly writers, I just felt like the right choice was to step away. I did it without really intending to. It was like my subconscious was working for me. I just put off the writing for long enough that I was too tired. Then, on Sunday, instead of writing my novel, I wrote in my journal. It worked. Now, instead of having 50,000 insufferable words, I now have a slightly injured pride. My pride, however, will recover when I hit the 50,000 good word mark.
At this point, it is what it is. Also, I have gained eight pounds. Eight pounds can be detrimental when thinking about the upcoming holiday season. I will not let these eight pounds stay. They aren’t welcome, but after the three weeks of stress and only one or two runs a week, doughnuts being brought to school, you know, the works, it is really to be expected. Now, I will move forward and I will lose the eight pounds again, and I will tell you all when I accomplish that.
This post has been a little bit all over the place, and I have a novel to plan, so you know, I have to go now! Have a great Tuesday! And remember, sometimes your pride will recover more quickly than 50,000 crappy words of a story. Maybe that uniform wasn’t a glowing reminder of my quitting, maybe it was just a glowing reminder that I was able to identify what was more important and stick with it.