Four thousand two hundred fifty nine words to go [0]. In three evenings. And I am tired. So, so tired.
This happens every year. I’m going steady all month long, but end up with almost no pad before the final push. I usually end up with my 50,000th word written at the final write-in, at which point I close my notebook, wave goodbye to my fellow-travelers, and stick the whole project in a drawer for a couple of weeks.
You know how the last twenty miles of a long road trip take the longest? It’s like that. The last 5000 words of each Nanowrimo project are like pushing peanut butter uphill with a bendy straw. I may love the story. I may hate the story. But by gum, there will be a purple bar next to my name. Only the heat death of the universe will stop me.
I will cook a nice meal— after Friday.
I will spend time with my family— after Friday.
I will resurrect my neglected Netflix account— after Friday.
I will read my library books— after Friday.
I will take a nice long walk and get some exercise— after Friday.
Until Saturday, I am still writing.
[0] As of this writing. As of posting, there will be fewer.