NaNoWriMo starts today and last month I was absolutely going to participate. I told myself that I should commit because I’ve got ideas, I’ve got fuel for a writing fire, I’ve got things I want to say. But I am also terrified and know myself well enough to know that I tend to bite off more than I can chew. After committing to NaNoWriMo and inevitably failing, I will hate myself. Hating myself is never good.
Additionally, I have 3 kids and a small business and as much as I think I am a superhero gifted with an inexhaustible well-spring of energy, I am not. I’m just a one human with one human’s amount of energy who is learning to chew (and ideally digest) all that I have already bitten off in this lie. Adding the daily task of writing 1667 words towards a “novel”, no matter how incoherent and first draft-ish, is only going to choke me up.
Committing to NaNoWriMo is a terrible plan.
If you can do it, I’ve got your back and support you 100%.
I, however, cannot and at 43 years old, I am just adult enough to admit that and then adjust my plans accordingly.
But the fact that I WANT to commit to NaNoWriMo has me wondering, “what is it that drives me to want to do this? To commit to such a big goal?”
It comes down to my drive to write, and the part of me that so desperately wants to do so. It’s my writer self that says “LET’S DO NANOWRIMO.” It’s not that my writer self WANTS to write really, it’s that she MUST write and she MUST do it now.
I am a writer who has long denied the act as a true part of my identity. I have dabbled in it here and there, filling up journal after journal of illegible long hand morning pages, telling anyone who inquires about what I write, “words on a page,” But my writer self has developed well beyond that and long hand mind dump writing is no longer enough for her. She is bored. My writer self is demanding more from me. More space, more attention, more freedom, and by golly some forking momentum. More care, more patience...more finding the right word, words, phrases, sentences, poems, essays, and sure maybe one day, a novel.
I am pretty sure that if I don’t do what she says, this writer self, that she is going to end me through a long series of slow deaths. With cigarettes, bad food, wine, the inclination to run away from it all.
The funny thing is that I have built my life so that I WOULD write. I put all the other stuff on my plate in the precise way I did, so that some day I WOULD write. I wanted to create a business that would sustain me so that I could write. It has all been in an effort to get to the place I am now and now that I am hear I am terrified, mostly to put myself out there and opening myself up to feedback.
Yet here I am. Making a clear and loud declaration to skip Nanowrimo this year (as if there was ever a year that I have not skipped it) and to commit to something that feels more inline with where I am in my writing journey.
Rather than NaNoWriMo, I’m committing to MeBlogSoMo.
Which is only a real thing now because I said so.
MeBlogSoMo is short for Me Blog Some Month. And it works like this: From November 1st to November 30th, I commit to posting to this blog. The goal is to post 30 things, one for every day of the month, but MeBlogSoMo is an infinite game and so I will win as long as I post SOME to the blog.
The point is to get over whatever is holding me back and just get into the rhythm of writing and sharing. It will not be perfect, may it at least be fun. Thank you for reading along.