I am now officially less than 5k away from winning NaNoWriMo. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I did it in a week. Will have done it? Whatever. My word count is at 45,179 and I haven’t written less than 5k a day yet, so unless something untoward happens, god forbid, I think I’ve got it in the bag.
I have a lot more story to tell after 50k, so I’ll be continuing, but this year has been a push to get there just to see how fast I can do it when I have a solid idea and a page of notes. It’s been an experience, I’ll say that.
Wait a second. Am I seriously writing a NaNo wrap up post on November freaking 6??
Yes. Yes I am.
One week. Holy crap.
So hopefully, on Tuesday we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming around these here parts since I won’t feel that I’m taking anything away from pouring my entire heart and soul into finishing a rough draft ASAP.
Remember when I announced that I’d won the Listserve? Of course you do! That was this week.
Man, that was a super awesome feeling.
I generally don’t believe people when they say oh, I’ve never won anything. I mean, the odds are totes against that. Nearly everyone is won something. Yeah, yeah, I know that conversely, people do exist who actually have never won a single thing. But that’s like meeting someone born without a nose. It can happen, but probably won’t today.
So just about everybody has felt that thrill of winning, which is fantastic, because it makes you feel special. We all need that, except for one person (I have a really short list of people I hate).
Heck, last month I won four Most American Thickburgers from a local radio station just because I know Bruce Springsteen is the Boss. I was glowing from that triumph for like a day and a half, and it was hamburgers, for crying out loud. But it didn’t even have to be a prize. Winning is winning, isn’t it?
I’ll have to paraphrase since I don’t have my copy with me, but I read in Robert Sawyer’s Neanderthal Parallax how intermittent reward is most effective for us as humans. I’ll admit I have no idea how fact-based that statement was, but it makes sense to me, especially since I live in a gamblin’ town. If we win all the time, winning loses meaning.
Winning is like success: the satisfaction of any win is directly proportional to the amount of intrinsic value personally allocated to the contest.
I like hamburgers; I was happy I won. I won a Cobb salad from Hooter’s about ten years ago, and I like salads, so I was happy I won. If my husband had won a salad, he would not have been nearly as happy, because he doesn’t like salad. He’d have been happy to give me his prize, but winning or losing the contest wouldn’t have meant as much.
I shit bricks that I won the Listserve. I don’t even know the number to multiply my hamburger win by to get how thrilled I was. And for hours! Even now, days later, I can feel my eyes begin to glaze as I consider the magnitude of the whole thing. I shouldn’t have stopped to consider. Now I have this whole jittery wave of mind-blown-ness passing over me.
But that’s the thing. I sent off my email Monday night, and I don’t know when it’s going to go out. The longer it is, the harder it is to deal. I did my usual let’s type this up and make a couple minor edits before sending it out into the world thing, and now I’m second guessing.
What if nobody reads it? Okay, that one’s not really on me. I came up with a fair subject line. But still.
What if nobody likes it?
What if they laugh at me?
What if, what if, what if?
I’m so insecure.
I’m really not that worried. That bubbly excitement of winning is still outweighing any doubts I have come up with so far. And after writing this, my doubts are even smaller, because the little voice of reason is getting louder with its two-word answer.
So I grin and bear it. It’s so exciting! And it’s far too late anyway. It was too late already once I hit send.
It’s around Listserve o’clock now, and I can’t help obsessively checking my email to see if today’s the day, even though I don’t really believe that today’s the day.