If you've read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, you know that the monster is way cooler than the one Boris Karloff played in the movies. The monster I created is more like the slow, ugly kind that I would rather not have around.
I reached my goal with the NaNoWriMo novel, but as I was writing the climax of the novel, I realized that I hate it. It's not a good story. I've decided that I'll finish it up and print a proof copy for myself, but no one else is going to read it. It'll sit on my bookshelf as a monument to the work I did and a reminder of what not to do in a novel. In the end of the story, I didn't care about any of the characters, there was no growth, no emotion and no change.
It ended up as a sad story, not because some tragedy befalls the characters, but sad because it was weak. I'm counting it as my own personal Plan 9 from Outer Space. The next one will be better.
