Earlier this month I set up my profile page for this years National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as NaNoWriMo, or henceforth, just NaNo. I decided I would do my “final” draft of my novel, assuming as one does that by the start of November my life would be a little more in order…and it is. However, time is now a factor. I work every afternoon at the school, and 3-5 mornings a week at Avis. On top of that I have writing responsibilities, household responsibilities, deep-dive motherhood on weekends, a mother who is sick in another state, and my own mental and physical well-being to deal with. It can get overwhelming, so why am I trying to throw 1,667 words a day on top of it?
Because I am a writer, and I am crazy.
As evidenced by the fact that I’ve been up since 3am waiting to write this, but there wasn’t enough light until now at a quarter to eight. I am really missing my office right now…it is the only thing i have missed from the old apartment. I hate having this noisy old computer in my bedroom, and I don’t feel as much good energy as I did when there was a door that I could fling open and let in the air and sun. I wrote the first draft of my novel there, and I am a little sad I will be finishing it elsewhere.
But then, will I ever finish it?
I like NaNo because it pushes me to write, and I work well with deadlines. It helps me get organized and stay focused on the task. Last year, I ate, slept, and breathed my book throughout the month of November, and I won NaNo, and I got my +50k words. Just like I did when I won in 2019 with my novella, The Second Before. The following year, I planned on starting my first draft of my novel, and broke my pinky. Then last year, I accomplished the feat. This year…well, I think it’s a broken-pinky year. Seriously…there is something wrong with my hand. Same pinky, but this time it is a pain in the knuckle. Anytime my doctor would like to call me back would be great. But I digress…
My point is that I feel like I will maybe give it a go, but I also think it isn’t going to work out, and I don’t know if it’s my self-doubt or my psychic abilities talking this time. Thing is, I know deep down that finishing this is my key to financial freedom…I don’t usually brag about my stuff, but if I retained wide publication with this book, Netflix would come calling. As a theatrical person, I can confidently say it would make a great little script. Alas, I am stalled because…life.
I think of Stephen, of course, tossing the first chapters of Carrie into the trash, certain no one would read it. That was me, last year. I think about JKR a lot, too (despite not wanting to anymore,) but I imagine her sitting in a little coffee shop or something penning Harry Potter on napkins and waiting for the welfare check to come in the mail. That is me, right now.
My book is this lovely little cup, see. It’s a little mishappen…think of a Rae Dunn mug, Many imperfections, not quite circular, but sturdy and simple…useful. That is what I have right now. I mean, I started with just the lump of clay and formed me up some pottery, so I am pleased with what I have accomplished and if I stopped there, it would still be a valiant effort. But what I want is an ornate teacup. The teacup is beautiful and perfect and free of flaws, usually with an accompanying coaster (read: film option.) Or maybe I want a Yeti thermos, scientifically proven to work, perfect for on-the-go situations and new opportunities (read: sequels.) The point is that I really love Rae Dunn, but my mug needs a little more shine.
So that’s what I intend to do in November. Provided my hands and head and stomach all get together and cooperate, but it’s been days since that happened so I am not holding out much hope.
In other news, my reading is tomorrow night, and I have it all planned and timed and everything. I’m a little nervous, but not very. I just kind of wish it was tomorrow already, is all.