Well, it's the last day of NaBloPoMo and I can't say I'm not glad. There were a ton of things that I wanted to write about and never got around to: Bob Dylan's new album, The Libertines, London slang, I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, the "Christmas #1" phenomenon, why my posts have the names they do...the list goes on.

I think in retrospect that NaNoWriMo might have been better for me. I'm not sure that I would have been able to write 50,000 words, but I would have written a lot and I would have done a lot less agonizing on a daily basis. Having to post every day means making your words public (not just a word count). There were days (like tonight, frankly) where I simply didn't have time. There were days (and you've read them) where I simply didn't have anything to say. And there were days where I simply couldn't get the words right...but I had to put them out there anyway. I don't write like that. I don't want to write like that. NaNoWriMo would have made me write, but kept the bad stuff private until I was ready to re do it or to pitch it or to post it.

So tomorrow we're off for a secret long weekend. If you think hard enough about it, you'll figure out where we are. I might post about it when we get back and I might not. I will post, however. I'll do my best to find some happy medium between a post a month and a post a day.

And I might actually start that novel, too.