I just force-flushed my perfectionism down the toilet, and writing is under way. I have 644 words.
It’s not like, spelling and grammar perfectionism, it’s like expecting every word to be the blessed and holy product of a genius that could lay a book down, edited and fully formed into NeoOffice writer. Which is a freeware product, btw, and available to anyone who doesn’t mind the inability to capitalize the letter B.
Srry, I should save the extraneous babble for my word count.
How’s it goin’ for you?
If you aren’t a nano-participant, please forgive the obsession, the self-absorption and tirades, cussing and self-abuse sure to follow. This is how books get written. This is also how books don’t get written, oddly enough.
That’s sort of a paradox, isn’t it.