I’ve been obsessing about words lately. When I started writing my latest novel I decided that two thousand words per day was a reasonable target. It seemed doable, achievable. So, for the first few days I managed to top two thousand words. Then I had a five hundred word day. Then a twelve hundred word day. For the last few days the weather has been fine, I’ve been out walking and I’ve been working on this website. Word count? Nowhere near two thousand words per day!
Then the self-doubt kicks in. Do I lack commitment to my current work in progress? Do I lack commitment to writing? Am I just a slacker? I have ‘won’ NaNoWriMo three times in the last five years. I can write fifty thousand words in one month. So what’s the problem at the moment?
The answer’s simple. November is cold and dark. I spend a lot of time at home in the winter. I like to be indoors when the nights are long and the days are wet. It’s almost like hibernation. The last few days have been glorious. The hills have been calling – and I’ve answered, with my boots and rucksack. And, after a glorious day on the fells or the moors, I shower, eat and start to think about all the words that I ‘should’ have written. Until I see the forecast for the next day, and out comes the map.