It's hopeless. I am way behind in NaNoWriMo. I will likely not make it to 50,000 words this month. But I write every day anyway, because I'm learning a great deal.
I'm learning that quality time spent with my family is still more important to me than lonely silence spent trying to spin my thoughts into words.
I'm learning that writing every day can be really hard and quite preoccupying, but it can also contain unexpected surprises.
I'm learning that living with a story - really, a family of characters and the world they inhabit - can color the way I see the real world.
And I'm learning that although I probably don't have the talent to be a "real" novelist, the act of trying to write something - to put ideas down on paper - is a worthwhile process nevertheless.
Photo: book shop in the Galerie Vivienne