Nudged myself over the 50K finish line today, after slacking off yesterday, sufficient to declare a win for this year’s effort. I’d already written the final scene, and found enthusiasm waning to bridge the gap, but managed to push things to 50,024 words. Yay.

My tally this year. Never quite fell behind, which is encouraging.

As much of a PitA as writing every day (well, except four of them), I managed to keep things at a decent clip. A lot of editing remains on this installment, but, as the second half of the book I started in 2019 (2020 being a skip year, for various stress-related reasons), I feel an accomplishment in getting this beat into shape.

I anticipate next year will be a NaNoEdMo, editing the unified beast (and incorporating the plentiful feedback I’ve gotten from my compeers in the “Wood Chipper of Love and Support,” the writing group I belong to).

I hope also, next year, that we can be back to live write-ins. Even if I’m not a terribly social writer, it felt like a very positive thing to sit there and type amidst others. Kind of like a bunch of cats in a room.

Many thanks to my Sainted Wife, Margie, who plied me with coffee, asked in a supportive fashion how things were going, and put up with my being virtually absent or otherwise engaged for a couple of hours every day, and to my son who shouted encouragement in between doing much more important writing than I was this year.