So, I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about whether or not I should participate in Nanowrimo this year.
This would be the third year I have undertaken the challenge and in fact, the third year in a row doing so.
It was a decision that weighed heavily on my mind and, honestly, it was kind of bumming me out.
I was thinking about how difficult this 50,000-word challenge is and how much of my concentration and time it takes to a) commit to do and b) to successfully complete the challenge.
I was thinking about how I would feel if I didn’t “win” this year and questions about my ego started to bubble to the top of my subconscious and things got pretty hairy there for a while.
Ultimately, after a number of soulful discussions with myself in the mirror and some frank conversations with some friends, I decided that I was a little too stressed and in my head about the whole thing and I decided against participating.
And that was my position on the issue for months, up to and including yesterday morning.
Yesterday, shortly before noon, I was sitting at my desk at work and a scene from my current work in progress (my 2018 Nanowrimo project) – and I use that term loosely given that I haven’t touched it in months – flashed in my mind.
Somewhere in my mind, I was wondering what was to become of these people, the intense and misguided characters I had created to tell a story of hurt and betrayal that had been swimming around in my head for months and months.
What was to become of them?
And the answer suddenly became startlingly clear. Nothing. And I couldn’t accept that. Especially knowing that the reason for that would lay squarely at my feet.
Writing requires intention. Inspiration, definitely; but it requires intention. Cognitive thought. An actual decision to be made. I am going to write. That simple decision is closely followed by a series of other decisions that flow directly from that first decision, but first, you must decide to write.
Without a concerted intention in my mind to attend to the unfinished tale, the story would languish and fall away. The thought of that bothered me. It bothered me enough to reach out to my friend and announce my intention to undertake the challenge of National Novel Writing Month and to finish my WIP.
When I sat down to really think about it, a great deal of the stress I was feeling was self-imposed and very much related to the unfinished writing projects that surround me. I realized that I would have to make the commitment to set the time aside to write because real life isn’t always naturally cooperative in that regard.
So, here I am, on the eve of Nanowrimo Eve and I am announcing my intention. If nothing else, I am making a commitment to my writing. I am excited to see how November progresses and while I will have to keep my ego in check as we all strive for those 50 thousand words, my eye is now on the prize. 50K or no, I am committed to finishing my WIP and this is a big step toward seeing that through.
As has been the case for the past two years, I will update you throughout the month.
If you are participating this year, please feel free to message me and we can share in the joy and pain and stress together.