Expectations are funny things. I’m trying to be ok with the likelihood that I won’t make an important goal. I probably won’t make it, even though I made it easy on myself and set the bar low.
Which goal? Submitting two pieces.
Ludicrous, isn’t it? 365 days, lots of downtime, and lots of writing, but I still didn’t manage it.
In many ways, this whole year has just slipped by me. No one warned me how much brain space just the fact of being pregnant would occupy, even aside from the hormonal chemistry (the effects of which I largely escaped).
Expectations are meant to be broken, for good or bad. I set writing targets for December in this post, but even those goals are quickly slipping out of reach. I underestimated the motivating energy from the collective NaNo community, the impact of returning to work even part-time, the holiday stress and busyness, and even my own inertia.
I am behind. My word count for the month is not what I had anticipated by this point. The short story I’d hoped to submit has to be in by the end of the month, but I haven’t even finished the rough draft. I’m lucky if I can get 300 words in a day on the story, and I haven’t managed that in over a week. I don’t anticipate finishing the rough draft, let alone polishing it for submission, before the end of the year.
As for the solution, I don’t know. I am in the process of applying for a program that would offer a sort of mentorship and support for getting submissions out in the world. I’ll let you know how it goes!