Throwing Down the Gauntlet on Myself

I just discovered a letter I wrote myself before my vacation in May, and it seems I promised myself a few things. One being to finish a first rough draft of my novel by December. Oh crap, half the year is gone. It also took me around six years to get a haphazard set of scenes together that could constitute half a novel. I need to get on this and buckle down hard apparently. Why do I promise myself crazy things?

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