Before sleep

I know I should be in bed. I should have gone to sleep a while ago, actually.

Been thinking of my NaNo. I think I know what helped contribute to my lack of success last time, aside from the obvious nagging failure at my school endeavors. I miss music. I forgot how useful it is as a tool to distract or plant stories inside of an imagination.

I have a lot of music now, but I'm not sure what to write. For some reason, one of the hooks I keep coming back to is that no matter what I end up writing, I want to be able to let my mom read it. I guess in a weird way I'm trying to write it for her. To elaborate, I could write any bit of fiction involving Werewolf, or XI, or anything like that. It would be well received, and enjoyed, by the people immediately around me. But is that really what I want to put out? I want to challenge myself, further than just writing what I know. I want a novel out of this that isn't just an exposition of another work. I want something that could be on a shelf somewhere.

Maybe I'm overshooting. There's nothing wrong with fiction, and I can't really keep my mind off of Loo and the twins while I'm at work. I guess part of this is my deep-down desires to be a writer welling up, wanting to write something that can be published someday. I don't know. I want to aim big. I want to write something good, something cool, something that will do more than just entertain. I don't know, maybe I'm looking at too big a picture for my own good.

It'll be something, though. Fifty thousand words or nothing this year, even if I have to drag myself miserably across the finish line.