I've been thinking about my writing process. Why I used to enjoy the fast-paced nature of NaNoWriMo and why it doesn't seem to work for me anymore.
I don't have any definitive answers yet, but one reason is seven months old now and about to start crawling. There was a time when writing until the wee hours of the morning meant I was not particularly likely to produce my finest work in the office the following day. No biggie. Now, I need my wits about me because the baby needs me. I can't disappear for an extended lunch break and take a nap in the park. Writing isn't the most important, all consuming part of my life it used to be. Someone else has taken over that role. I think sometimes it's still difficult for me to accept that. I can't remember a time when I didn't think of myself as a writer first and foremost. I don't think of myself as a mother first and foremost even though right now, that's probably what I am.
So maybe, maybe this is all just a glitch. Maybe I'll be back to breakneck novel writing again once the little one is not quite so little anymore.