crazy town

What am I thinking, trying to do NaNoWriMo again? Somehow I was able to finish last year, completing a 50,000 word story in just one month. And that was with full time work AND graduate school classes. This time, I feel lucky to be hitting my word count and I'm not in school anymore. It will be a miracle if I make it to 25,000 words at the rate I'm going.

I'm not sure if it's the story or what. But this whole exercise is making me wonder if I should give up on the dream. I mean, if it takes this much external motivation to make me write daily then perhaps I should find a new thing to long for.
Last year I submitted a story and the editor rejected it, saying that it was "flat." And I read through it again and sure enough, she was right. It was absolutely devoid of life in more than one spot. And I wondered how I could have missed that. Is it because I am flat myself? I always had trouble interpreting literature in college because if it wasn't there on the surface I didn't always see it. I wonder sometimes if this is why I have trouble connecting to people. I hold things at arm's length-stories, people. If I could achieve more depth in my writing maybe my life would follow suit?

God, don't even listen to me. It's the madness of the month. Pouring all those words out is taking its toll on my sanity. I hope to finish. I think I need to bribe myself. Very well-if I make it to 50,000 I will buy myself enough yarn to make a pretty shawl or something. It will be expensive. See, there's that external stimulus again. Do real writers need this?