Disheartened…

I’m feeling disheartened today.  After the euphoria of ‘winning’ NaNoWriMo and the hard work that it has entailed, there’s been a few downers that have got me well, down.

Firstly, I didn’t win the competition I was shortlisted in.  I knew it was a long shot as I was one of twelve finalists, but it was still disappointing not to get the gong.  There were 140 entries so making the top twelve was still an achievement but let’s be frank – not many of us like losing!  I actually think I’m pretty good at losing.  I don’t sulk or pout or stamp my feet.  I like to think I lose graciously and that I can be happy for someone else.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the sting myself. 

NaNoWriMo Winner!!!!!

Blow up the balloons, throw the streamers, pop the non-alcoholic champagne and release the 100 white doves – I am a WINNER!!!  In NaNoWriMo world, at least.  After countless obstacles (like people sleeping on my floor for a week), hurdles (think babies x 2 in walkers) and mountains (think piles of washing) I have managed to conquer the pinnacle that is NaNoWriMo.  I clocked over at about 12:45pm local time.  What a sweet reilef!  I was determined to get a purple bar of my very own.  Look to your right.  Doesn’t it look good?  (Well, it will when my link updates itself…actually, I have since discovered the purple bar is only on my NaNo page.  The one to the right will say ‘winner’ any moment now…still waiting…still waiting…hooray!  There it is!)

Now I am faced with the just-as-daunting-but-even-more-important task of finishing my first draft.  Unlike Trudy, who is a NaNo veteran, I haven’t finished a skeleton of my story that I’ll go back and add flesh to later on.  No, I have grown an embryo, complete with inner organs and skin.  I’d say I’m up to about the 20 week scan – you know, the one where you get to see what the baby looks like (kind of) and can tell if it’s a boy or a girl?  I’m about halfway.  There’s a lot of baby-growing – or in this case, novel-growing – to do.  I’m setting myself the goal of finishing the first draft by the end of December.  Considering we’ve already done Christmas pretty much (that was another of last weekend’s shennanigans) then I may just have some down time while the rest of the world is going crazy. 

In the words of a really cheesy Australian ad, “Oh what a feeling!”.  I’ll let you know when I get to THE END.

My tired…

Three-year-old Possum has a way of putting things.  He hasn’t quite got the whole pronoun situation worked out and he still uses ‘my’ in place of ‘I’.  It’s so cute that I’m not in a hurry for it to disappear.  His language will develop naturally over time and for now I get a giggle out of his speech.  When our family flew back to Melbourne on Sunday he burst into tears and said, “But my do love them!”  And today, I’m borrowing one of his phrases.  My tired.  My is very tired.