As much as I love NaNoWriMo, in theory, I just. No.
It’s not that the story isn’t there to be written, it is. NaNoWriMo just ends up making me feel crap because I fall behind, inevitably, often because I have things to do. A mother and sister to look after. Christmas things to make, and honestly I’d like to go to bed this Christmas Eve rather than stay up till four am stabbing my fingers to finish gifts. It’s not as though I don’t write all year, because I do. I write fics and stories and poems and ridiculous little drabbles.
I just… ugh.
Stress = Steffi getting her second grey hair before she’s 19.
Mirrored from Siren Tides.