So I'm doing this. I waited a while to go public with it, because I was afraid I'd quit, but now that I'm 20,000 words in, I'm pretty sure I'll make it to the end. As The Boy used to say when he was little, "Phewf!" I signed up because my friend P wanted a writing buddy in the worst way, and because I am an idiot who always wanted to write a book. I'm one of those jerks who's read a lot of books and thought, "Pah! Why aren't I doing this? If this is as good as it has to be to get published, I should quit my day job!" Of course, I'm not a complete idiot, so I never quit my day job, and I limited myself to the occasional short story after I finished my writing degree in college. (English Writing: Fiction, with a minor in History and a certificate in Women's Studies. No wonder my mom frowned upon my choices--I graduated from school qualified for nearly nothing.)
Anyway, P is much more serious about being a writer than I am, and the idea of NaNoWriMo's crazy deadline and inexorable march toward a Daily Word Count appealed to her, because she knew she'd have to shut off her inner editor/critic/perfectionist and Just Write It (suck it, Nike). And I've always wanted to write a book. Honestly, my goals when I was in my 20s were to own a house, get a graduate degree, and write a book before I turned 40. Assuming I finish the (flaming pile of crap) book on November 30, I will have achieved each of those goals. Granted, these are technically the "lite" versions of these goals: Really I wanted a nicer house in a better neighborhood--with my husband still in it, I wanted a PhD in English, rather than the MLIS I have, and I wanted to actually PUBLISH a book, but hey. I'll take it.
If I finish this book (which is a completely stereotypical first novel, semi-autobiographical and all that. because, Write What You Know), I will feel like the poor sap at the end of the Invictus poem: Bloody, but unbowed.
If I don't finish, I'm pretty sure my future is doomed. DOOMED, I say. Because if I can't spend a month doing what is essentially little more than thirty 1,600-word homework assignments (THANK YOU, P), then I can't ever finish anything. Ever. And I'm doomed.
Cross your fingers for me. You'll never read my pile of dreck, but I promise you'll know when I've finished it.
1 comment:
I just had to point out to you that, four thousand words from the end of your completed novel, you are definitely more serious about writing than you give yourself credit for. :)
Happy writing to the end!
~~ P
Post a Comment