I wanted to write. Hell, I'm way behind on my NaNo words, and even if I forget that, I am writing a book. If NaNo didn't exist, I'd still want to be working toward THE END. I even tried to tell myself to forget about NaNoWriMo and just get the words out. Nada. I told myself to forget how behind I was - you know, to take the pressure off. Zilch.
I did think about writing. You don't want to know what I was thinking. I must be at that point - you know the one. The self-doubt point. :shrug: I've been here so many times they ought to name a street after me.
Hubs is being supportive by telling me I don't need to worry about this. That I don't need to hold myself to some arbitrary deadline. I should just relax and let the words come when they will. I understand. He deals with deadlines and pressures in his day job, and he'd do anything to take that off my shoulders. I get it.
I still feel like a slug. Here I am without any outside deadlines or pressures. I have no agent. I have no contracts. (Which is pressure enough, if you ask me.) No one cares if I ever finish another book. I could chuck the whole idea and the world wouldn't be the wiser - well, except for the 59 people who stop by here on a regular basis. :waves:
* that picture is of a beer trap (aka slug pub) for ridding yourself of the pesky slugs in your garden. They love beer. They drink, they drown, they die. :shudder: Thank goodness I'm not really a slug.
*All images deleted to avoid any chance of copyright infringement*