nudle

Self pity and run-on sentence alert.

Last night I went to bed, Han got me up and I was angry and not very graceful, then I couldn't go to sleep so I got up and tried to squeeze out some words and it was not easy, plus I'm behind in my count for National Novel Writing Month, then I went to bed again and I felt numb and that worries me, and then Han got me up again at four because he had to go to the bathroom so when my alarm went off I felt tired and still numb, and that concerns me because of the Fresh Air interview with Allie Brosh who got depressed and had no feelings and now I'm sitting on the sofa and trying to make up some of the slipping, sliding word count and I'm having a tough time and thinking about how nice it would be to take a nap and it's raining and white outside and I still don't have that many feelings except a general sogginess, whereas last week I felt alive and happy and excited even though I was behind on my word count then, too, and now I keep wondering what is it all for, why am I even doing this and the evil voice of doubt is chatting away in my mind's ear.

I'm doing Nanowrimo.

Okay. That's all I can write because I'm about 2,871 words short of where I should be on day 12. I'm sitting on my blue sofa with my laptop open writing about a girl who lives in a house with a blue sofa, a girl who is getting herself into trouble even though she wants to change her world for the better. This girl loves her friends but hates Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio.

Hey, this is fun! Fun like running a marathon or giving birth is fun.

If you want to participate in National Novel Writing Month with me next November, check it out here.