I am going to fail NaNo. No, really - just look at my progress bar.
It's hard, because this is the first time in three years that I've failed and I feel dreadful as a writer. I really wanted to prove to myself that I could actually finish a book. Well it's not finished, nowhere near. Not even close.
And I know that November has been a month straight out of hell. Severe money worries made me stressed, insomaniac and very nearly brought about a seperation between my husband and I. After surviving that - which includes a week where we had £40 to feed the seven of us, heat the house and run the car - missing out on 50K of words seems like small beans. Should feel like small beans. But it still bugs me.
It means that, except for October when I was writing fanfic, I've not hit my monthly word target all year. The only thing I have to show for 2010 is one published story and the fact I'm somehow still alive. I'm not sure about how sane I still am.
What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, though. Right?