# A Simple Plan

The goal was to have the first draft of a novel written by February 25, 2019. Given that I made that goal in November, 2015, it seemed realistic. Problem was, I didn't have an idea.

So I thought about it, let it percolate in the back of my mind, and I wrote some notes. Didn't work on the novel, though. That was sacrosanct, and not to be touched until the "correct moment."

What did that moment look like? Well, apparently it looked like November 1, 2018, when it became clear that if I didn't actually just dive in and write the thing, it wasn't going to get written.

I made good progress through NaNoWriMo (Not NaNo good progress, but going from zero to anything greater is good progress some days) but November ended and the story wasn't finished. But I was.

It hasn't been an easy story to write, and the impending deadline made it harder for me. I knew I wasn't going to make it, so I stopped. Like I do.

Now, this is a story for, me. I don't owe it to anyone else, which probably contributes to my lack of finish, but I was disappointed in myself for not even really coming all that close to finishing the story. And now, it sits in the dusty pile of stories I haven't finished, just another perfect snowflake of a story that I won't be able to ruin by completing it.

Writing is frustration, no doubt about it.