30 days, man. 30 days. Nablopomo, you were such a friend to me. You made me think, you made me reach out, you gave me a kazibillion more blogs to read (for this last I am especially grateful) and you helped me achieve a goal. It is so darn nice to achieve a goal, spoken as one who tends to set huge goals (Governor General’s Award for Literature? I have a taffeta skirt waiting for the awards ceremony. Published novel that might win? Not so much.) and then kind of slink away and hope no one asks about it. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said, “I’m going to write EVERY DAY to get in the habit!” and then bought a new “write every day” notebook and a special “write every day” pen and not done it? I would be
uh
rich.
But that’s the thing about self-publishing and having an audience, however small. One is accountable. Thank you all for keeping me accountable. Now, though accountability and writing every day are their own rewards, I really, really, really want to win a prize. I love prizes. M. Kennedy? Please, may I have a prize?
Or my baby will drool on you.
He totally will.
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