Tonight is the last day of my writing class/group. It has been a particularly non-productive term for me. The last two terms I wrote first drafts of two novels - one per term. This term I really wanted to get a good start on my next story, but didn't get very far. I think I've only had maybe two classes with my regular small group, so I didn't get consistent feedback either.
I remind myself to be positive and think about what I have accomplished....
I have completed significant edits to my last novel. I have written two short stories and shared them. I started another longer piece, shared it, but decided not to pursue finishing it for now. I wrote a few poems. I sent four poems out for publication (rejected with a flyer, not even a letter). I did the A-Z blogging challenge. I designed in extreme detail my next novel and wrote the first three, maybe four chapters. I also read at the public reading without falling to pieces at all.
All of this I did despite my family's increased neediness over the last two months and the insane mound of laundry that I never seem to get to the bottom of. That's not too shabby.
But I really wanted more.