Every year, I look at NaNo and get wistful. And then I remind myself that a) I stopped even attempting to write fiction for Reasons, and no, I am not going to fix those fast enough to be able to actually do NaNo, and if I ever do decide to work on them, it's going to take a lot of time, and b) no, NaNo would never ever work for me anyway. Ever. At all. No. Bad. Bad for me.

One year, I tried to convince my mother to try it, because she still says she wants to grow up to be a writer, but she couldn't manage to even start it, and I couldn't be bothered to push her again.