It ends tonight. The novel does not. I attained about 12,300 words, some 10,000 of which I believe take place before the beginning of the book.

At this point my frame should be wracked with the pain of my soul being torn, my face in a rictus of torment as I tear at my hair and cry to the heavens in a voice barely human, “What went wrong?” Then I fall to my knees, my back suddenly bowed forward and shaken with sobs, my face cast down and bathed in tears. And, y’know, just the whole cliche.

Honestly, I’m too tired. And don’t feel all overwrought. Hell, I don’t even feel wrought. I am, if anything, underwrought, if there is such a state and it carries the entire lack of trauma that I credit it with.

So, in a calm, casually interested voice, I ask, “What went wrong?”

Well, nothing. I wrote 12,300 words. Most very good ones, even if they aren’t part of the book.

Last year I did Nano because I needed the pressure to demonstrate to myself that I would, in the end, finish a book. I did. Good. Then I finished another. Also good.

(Okay, I actually finished two first drafts, which isn’t the same thing at all, but bear with me.)

I think that this year I was looking less after daily word counts and bludgeoning my way through at all costs (shouldn’t that have been in italics? Let’s try it: at all costs. Oh, yes, much better) and more about sustainable practice.

That is: I don’t want to work myself to death to keep my job, work myself to death to support my lifestyle, work myself to death to write my book, work myself to death to blahblahblah.

I want to have my life and have all of those things and other things as well (like sleep), which means that I may only have moderate amounts of any of them at a time.

Lord, I hope this doesn’t mean I’m growing up.

5597 / 50000 words. 11% done!

I’ve been pestered by little things that aren’t writing, but that do eat my time. Bad universe! No universe-cookie! I’m writing in spite of. Shannon helped.

Tired now. Sleep.

Two of the cats went to live with Shannon’s mother until we are living out in the country. I am relieved beyond my ability to tell; this apartment is too small for five cats, a parrot, 15 budgies, and two humans. Removal of two cats goes a long way to fixing that.

Since Shannon’s mom lives four hours away, that pretty much trashed yesterday for anything else, but it was still time well spent. The household is quiet and well-disposed today.

Pshaw. Easy stuff. I’m at 2,862, and nearly 2,000 of those took place today. I spent part of yesterday finishing the outline that Lisa, on whom should be untold blessings and told ones, as well, suggested strongly that I write, and which I wrote along the lines of the Monomyth which Lisa, upon whom etc, suggested I fiddle with.

2k was a joke. I wrote for 20 minutes this morning, 35 at lunch, twenty minutes on the way home…I assumed I was making decent way. If I wasn’t tired, if I wasn’t writing in tiny chunks of time — who knows how far I’d go? I’ll find out in the next few days.

Writing with an outline filled with dialog highpoints and stage directions is SO EASY. I think, if I get some sleep and some time, I could actually be writing at Catiespeed^TM, which is simply ridiculous.

Catiespeed^TM metric for 11/2/2007: 1,900 words/day