I’ve been doing really well. 5456 words on the first. 4550 words on the second, and today 2511 words. All above the minimum word count. All leaving me far above the mark needed if I want to finish, but…
I just got so lazy today. I had given myself the unofficial goal of 5,000 words a day, so slacking off when the baby went to bed instead of writing, it made me feel bad. Did I happen to say that the word count needed to meet the goals of NaNoWriMo is 1,667 words a day. Not 5,000. Not 2,511—like I wrote today, but I still feel bad about it.
I do this. When I get into something and commit to it, I throw my entire self into it. When I really want something, my standards are far beyond what normal people ask of themselves. I get all perfectionist and intense.
It’s good because I get somewhere, I do good work. (In this case, “good work” means word count, not good writing.) But it’s bad, because when I fall short of my perfectionist standards into the realm of the merely human but still good, I start feeling bad about myself.
I know what I’m doing. I’m in a good place, just being a freak. So, shake it off mamacita. Shake it off.