So, it’s NaNoWriMo. Otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month. The month all those angry, misunderstood layabouts fear. The month they are challenged to actually write the next great American—or Serbian, or French—novel, the masterful proof of their genius that they have hitherto been hindered from completing by means both vague and all-encompassing. NaNoWriMo is on!
To be really, shamefully honest, this is the first time I’ve really been aware of NaNoWriMo. Since I don’t reflect on my life much, I can only indistinctly recall someone mentioning it last year. Or the year before? But, I should have known. Because I am that layabout. I’m that person who suddenly can’t write if the room is one degree cooler than yesterday. If I have a “bad feeling” about words today. If there is any chance at all that someone may have commented on my comment on their Facebook status. Really, if there is anything at all that I could be doing before I sit down to write, I will do it.
Except this month! Or, I guess so. It’s already Day 3 (I’m a day ahead of most people I know, unfortunately) and I haven’t done much. Ok, I haven’t done anything. But, instead of the insane 50,000 word minimum that most people are committing themselves to, I’m planning to just concentrate on finishing a first draft of a story that I’ve been avoiding. I quit writing it for personal reasons—couldn’t stop from steering it towards myself, hence making it too painful to continue—but now I’m determined to get it out. Therapy, or professional doggedness, I WILL do this. This time around.
If YOU are interested, baby writer, check out the website: http://www.nanowrimo.org/ It looks like it’ll be exhausting, but fun!
