This was my first year participating in NaNoWriMo. I was pretty excited about it. I explained to everyone who would listen to what it was, the rules, why I was doing it, “Of course I’ll finish it,” “Yes, I can write 50k words in a month,” “No, I won’t be quitting my day job.”

I talked my best friend into doing it with me, and away we went. The first day, the words flew from my fingers faster than lightening out of Palpatine’s pinkie. I cranked out over 7 thousand words and was convinced I’d hit 50k in no time. My friend called me a robot, we laughed, everything was peachy.

As the month went on, the inspiration left. It was more like a chore than an art. I had to hit a certain word count. I had to update the website to get “credit” for my words. I felt almost like the words weren’t as meaningful as the number, and at the end of the month, I’d hit 50,011 words and didn’t write another one for over a month.

I’m not saying that I’m against NaNoWriMo. Far from it, I love that it exists, and I’m excited to learn about more events like it, but I need to approach these types of things more carefully in the future. I know my tendencies, I know that I am overly competitive, with myself most of all and that at the end of the day these sorts of events can detract from the end goal.

Which is what, exactly?

I guess That is the first step. Figuring out what the end goal is. Is it to write a book? Finish a book? Publish a book? Or just write. Create. Grow.

I’m not writing for you. I’m not writing for that guy over there with the fedora or the woman crossing the street holding the freshly baked baguette.

Am I in France? No. I’m in my living room pretending I’m in France, don’t distract me.

My goal is to write.

Although I make lists and have sticky notes and overzealous expectations of myself, I need to remember that the goal at the end of the day is to just write something.

It’s ok to be ambitious, it’s not ok to shit on your self-esteem when you haven’t become the greatest at everything you ever try to do in the first week.

I’m not going to sit here and say that I’m going to blog constantly, or keep a writing journal, or make any other promises that I’m inevitably going to break and mentally berate myself for – But I’m going to write. I’m telling the universe, myself, and you if you happen to be reading this for some reason – I’m going to keep writing.

Whether it’s a piece of nerdy poetry to my husband, a short story about a dinosaur who got lost on the subway or an intricate three-part novel about a young woman with fiery red hair in a Russian school who can absorb and expel bad guys from her body in the form of tattoos (yes, that one is in the works), as long as the keyboard is clicking, I’m ahead of the game.