Information that has nothing to do with NaNoWriMo: Today I ran out of money on my Oystercard because I am an absent-minded dick and instead of tapping in and out I go breezing merrily past the tap points trying to write and walk at the same time and then get penalised next time I tap anything. Oyster PrePay is a tax on people like me who are too woolly-minded and incapable of operating in the real world to remember to perform basic tasks.
This meant that I had to walk back from the library, which due to me being irrational about which route would be the quickest and easiest on my legs (hint: it was not the one I ended up taking), meant that I walked past Alexandra Palace at dusk. This is generally an emotional experience anyway because the view from up there is staggering if you like looking at London. As about the only thing I like looking at more than London is Tom Hardy’s face or Idris Elba’s face, or possibly some beautiful hybrid TomIdris HardyElba face, it’s always a treat to be up there, and all the more so when the city is lighting up and you can stand in everyone’s way trying to spot landmarks: Oh, there’s the BT/Post Office Tower; Oh, there’s Canary Wharf; Oh, there’s that Shard thing. Today I managed to pick out the dome of St Paul’s, illuminated to show it off to the passing world, and may have had a little bit of an overtired cry about how lovely it is and how happy I was to be in London and not having to live someone that isn’t London and therefore isn’t really a place.
Information that has slightly more to do with NaNoWriMo: Trying causes me to set unreasonable goals and have unfair expectations of myself. When I’m luxuriating in my own lack of productivity I tend not to berate myself as hard as I do when I’ve decided I’m going to do something and fall short of whatever deranged mark I’ve set. Today demonstrated that perfectly: apparently I am an utter failure for “only” writing 4,500 words, a single chapter, rather than hitting 5,000 and writing two chapters like “you were meant to”.
The thing is, these goals have developed as I go along. When I started out my goal was “write book, finish book”. I’ve done wordcount-based goals before, I wrote 158,000 words in 2008 and gave myself tendonitis, there is no need to prove that particular point again and I have no idea who I think I’m proving it to either, since the one person I might conceivably want to impress (me) is really, really never going to be impressed. Somehow in just over a week I have gone from “write book, finish book” to “IF YOU DON’T WRITE 5,000 WORDS MINIMUM A DAY YOU ARE FAILING EVERYONE”.
I really can’t work out if it’s competitive or just casting around to find a stick to beat myself with. At any rate, I suppose I had better write 5,000 words tomorrow if only to avoid the meltdown taking place at the moment.