Back on the first I set a November writing goal of finishing both of my works in progress. Yesterday, I sent a completed draft of INFECTED (my medical memoir about when I almost died of an infectious disease last summer) to my agent. I had 58k words at the end of October, and the draft I sent her is only 60k words, so I really haven't done much writing. But I did send it, so that totally counts.
Now all I have left to do is finish the now 50k word novel that I was working on back before I got sick. I did manage to write 60k words in October, there is no reason why I shouldn't be able to write 5-10k more to finish up this cute little YA romance. Except for the whole, I don't feel like it reason.
I mainly just feel sick. I'm way better than I was a few months ago. The chances of me dying are all over and done with. But I'm still not exactly healthy. I'm nauseous 24-7 and have a really hard time eating/digesting food. Plus I pass out often enough that I feel down right Victorian. I could be a character in a steam-punk novel with a weak constitution. My husband does collect steam engines.
So yeah. I can write 60k about how much I love my nurses with a few fun little anecdotes thrown in to keep the story going. Like when I had a panic attack in the ICU while receiving a neck-IV (worst medical treatment ever invented). And the time I overdosed on morphine 12 hours after my surgery. But when it comes to writing fiction, all I feel like doing is puking.
I did send my agent one completed project though, so I'm still going to call November a successful writing month. Even if I don't get around to doing any more writing.