Yesterday, I flagrantly boasted about my NaNo smug/time graph and how over the month I would run the gamut of emotions. Well, check this: it's day one and I've already done ALL of the emotions. Admittedly, they were fleeting, not deep and fatigue-laden like they will undoubtedly become, but I've been through it all.
This morning, there was The Fear of Starting Things, as there always is, and then I went through the Depression of Being a Terrible, Terrible Writer, which stretched from lunchtime until about mid-afternoon. And then I made myself Chuckle With My Own Inventiveness and Wit (I may be stretching the capitalisation now, sorry), before I eventually began to Like My Writing by dinnertime.
Thinking back, this does all feel vaguely familiar. Maybe the beginning wasn't quite as fun and easy as I have managed to convince myself. Reading back, the first few chapters of last year's book were by far the most uninteresting and aimless. It was really only by the middle of the book that I'd got into the groove and started to enjoy it, and it was the end where I lost steam and went whole days without doing any writing. My smug/time graph won't look like a smiley face at all! It'll look like a bell curve or, to those without a C-grade Maths A-level, a Big Fat Frowny Face.
Current word count: 2134