Falling leaves

Or is it "Failing leaves"? As in crumpled sheets of scribbles.
(NaNoWriMo self-portrait.) 

At this rate, I will either have to become the world's oldest novelist or the author of the world's shortest novel.
This blip does not actually match my total output so far.
But almost.

Still, where there's life, there's hope.
I shall persevere.
And I received a party invitation for December 1st. 
So whether I win or lose, there will be hugs at the end of NaNoWriMo.

Thanks for all your good wishes. I miss you guys!