I wrote an extensive and, I like to think, rather sensitive exploration of Why I Stopped Writing. Maybe I’ll share it with you at a later date. Honestly, I do think there’s something of merit there. But this isn’t the stuff of day one, and oh – this is Day Freaking One.
Day one of November. Day one of National Novel Writing Month, a challenge which I’ve already taken on – and won – twice. I considered doing so again this year. Thing is, I’d be going in ready to fail. I’ve lost the joy of writing. I’ve lost delight in my own storytelling. Without that, why the hell would I spend hours a day for an entire month cranking out a word count that makes me feel seriously crappy about my talent/lack thereof?
So. I’m going to use November to put out feelers.* Going to see if the teenage/early adulthood need to write is still there.** Not going to limit myself to one story, rather open myself to all of them: what I had for breakfast, hiking alone after a devastating breakup, adopting the most adorable cat, shopping at the local farmers market, seeing sprites in snowfall. Anything. Everything. I’m going to post a blog entry every day in November.
I’m supported and encouraged by some amazing women who are joining in on this challenge. Whether or not we all hit that every-day-for-thirty-days, I’m delighted to be in such excellent company.
And oh, how I am looking forward to writing. Just freaking writing. Here we go!
*Yes, I know there are other blog challenges out there. I chose my own. I don’t want to fight about this, but you should know: I’ve got backup, and they’re amazing.
**I wrote in the margin of blue books, on the back of receipts, on the pad I always kept in my backpack. I have two full file boxes of loose papers and a good dozen notebooks of scenes/character outlines/world building. See also: dream journals. Real journals. Scrapbooks. I was one step away from a yarn-and-thumbtack wall of nerd. It was fun.
***”If you wish to be a writer, write.” ~Epictetus, Greek know-it-all smarty-pants. Smarty-toga. Whatever.