The Short Side of Stories

As November is quickly winding down, the fact that I am a NaNoWriMo failure is becoming clearly evident. Twenty-two days in and my number remains at the 3,000 I was previously so proud to have completed. I still am, although that pride is now joined by a twinge of disappointment. Disappointment that something I was so excited about lost its luster so quickly. The hypochondriac in me considers getting tested for Adult Attention Deficit Disorder.

But seriously, I think the problem is more of a self-disciplinary sort. This isn't the first time I've begun a project and failed to finish. It's sort of my thing. I do it often. My past is littered with dreams and ambitions hanging incomplete.

In light of my complete lack of self-discipline to write a novel, it was suggested that perhaps the short story was more my speed. Perfect, it seemed, as I had no problems getting to 3,000 words. So last night I sat down to create my first short story.

It went well at first, I got the entire story down on paper, well up on the screen really. Then I stopped and went to bed. This morning I went back to it and proceeded to basically destroy the entire thing, except the ending. I love the ending.

I'm currently delaying my return to the little project by doing this blog post. Procrastination is a friend I know well. But this time it feels a bit different. Instead of feeling as though it will likely remain just another unfinished beginning, it feels like I can and will go back to that short story and finish.

Perhaps that's a sign that short stories really are my perfect creative outlet, even if they can be just as frustrating.