Well, fuck. That went completely off the rails, didn't it? In fairness to me, here's what happened:
Project Bananas: Week Two: Become Famous Novelist started beautifully. I wrote the requisite word count on Friday and Saturday. I was traveling back home from DC on Sunday and due to a layover had twice as much time as the trip would usually take, so I figured I'd write on the second plane ride. Unfortunately, by the time I actually got on the plane, we were running over an hour late and I was sunburnt and cranky. I figured I'd get back on track on Monday.
Monday was busy and I knew I wouldn't have time to blog or write in the daytime because I was at work. But as the day itself went on, I felt progressively wretched and finally had to ask my boyfriend to come pick me up from work (a rare occurrence, I assure you). I slept until dinner was ready, ate D's amazing Indian Feast, and then crashed again. By this time my throat was hurting and my glands were swollen and painful to touch. Idiot that I am, I trundled off to work on Tuesday morning only to actually get sicker on the bus to work and I headed straight to a walk-in clinic. 45 minutes, a strep throat diagnosis, and a prescription for penicillin later and I was headed back home where I would spend the next two days wallowing in pain. Needless to say, no writing was written.
Thursday and Friday were all about madly catching up on work and sleep, the weekend was extremely social, and Monday was my last day in the office before ANOTHER trip. Project Bananas had so completely gone off the rails at this point that it hardly seemed worth worrying about. Now it's Wednesday (so really, it should be Week Three, Day 6) and I'm trying to put the pieces back together.
Here's the thing though. Project Bananas is my evil genius and as such I make the rules. And my rules involve a lot of opportunities for redemption, because lord knows I'm going to need them. Plus no-one is reading this anyways. That doesn't matter though. The ultimate goal of Project Bananas was to make me more accountable to myself for my ideas and dreams. Acknowledging a project's failure (and not even failure, at that) and moving on and continuing is what I want this to be all about.
So Mea Culpa, and in the words of Samuel Beckett, "All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."