Shoot Me
NaNoWriMo sucks. Whose bright idea was this anyway? *grumble, stupid people, grumble* I kept telling myself that I needed to be disciplined and write my 1667 words each day... that is the pace required to hit 50K by the 30th.
And what am I telling myself now? That is retarded.
This has nothing to do with discipline. Brushing your teeth before you go to bed even though you are incredibly tired -- that's discipline. Making the financially-wise decision to brew a pot of coffee instead of buying one 8 oz cup -- that's discipline. Reading 1667 words per day for one month -- that is discipline.
But requiring oneself to write 1667 words strung together by the thread of the imagination, that is forcing art. There must be something ethically wrong with that.
Then again, maybe I thrive submersed in pressure. I believe I might. I recall a conversation with one of my college roommates who could not believe I had yet to begin writing a paper that was due later that particular day:
Ane: You must work well under pressure.
Me: No, I only work under pressure.
Okay, my rant is over. It's nearly 1, and I must go to bed. Look at all these words I've wasted. Maybe I can cut and paste this into my storyline somehow.
NaNoWriMo sucks. Whose bright idea was this anyway? *grumble, stupid people, grumble* I kept telling myself that I needed to be disciplined and write my 1667 words each day... that is the pace required to hit 50K by the 30th.
And what am I telling myself now? That is retarded.
This has nothing to do with discipline. Brushing your teeth before you go to bed even though you are incredibly tired -- that's discipline. Making the financially-wise decision to brew a pot of coffee instead of buying one 8 oz cup -- that's discipline. Reading 1667 words per day for one month -- that is discipline.
But requiring oneself to write 1667 words strung together by the thread of the imagination, that is forcing art. There must be something ethically wrong with that.
Then again, maybe I thrive submersed in pressure. I believe I might. I recall a conversation with one of my college roommates who could not believe I had yet to begin writing a paper that was due later that particular day:
Ane: You must work well under pressure.
Me: No, I only work under pressure.
Okay, my rant is over. It's nearly 1, and I must go to bed. Look at all these words I've wasted. Maybe I can cut and paste this into my storyline somehow.
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