Total Words Written for NaNoWriMo: 2,324
[Warning: the following post might sound like a whiny rant. It really isn’t. While I was washing dishes this evening, I was thinking about what to write here, and my first thought was to write something general about NaNoWriMo or about the writing experience and avoid writing about the struggle and looking like an absolute writing failure, but that wouldn’t be honest. On some days writing is a struggle. And on some days other things are a struggle, which make it impossible to write. This was one of those days, and I’m just trying to “keep it real”. Hope you don’t mind.]
I’m overwhelmed again.
And this time it is the word count. I’m seeing friends and acquaintances talking about all-day writing sessions and I feel a twinge of envy. As a work-from-home mom with a full college schedule, I can’t afford that luxury. And I wonder, was I not-so-wise (read “stupid”) to even attempt this NaNoWriMo thing?
My mom would sometimes say, while we kids were growing up, that “good intentions pave the road to hell.” She didn’t mean it literally. She referred to the fact that good intentions aren’t worth much if they’re not backed up by good deeds. But good intentions can pave the road to disillusionment and discouragement if there’s not a plan of action.
A plan! That’s what I need!
Preferably one that does not include staying up all night writing or working. (With the kids sick this past week, one with a fever, staying up a good portion of the night is already an undesired factor in my life and part of the reason I haven’t written much today … I was busy taking a nap.)
During my last semester, I wrote a novel in two months, but I had 50 minutes between classes, which gave me undisturbed time at college to write. Undisturbed time at home exists in two-minute segments. Only after the kids have gone to sleep at night do I have longer stretches of time to work or write. Yet this often occurs at roughly the same time my brain retires for the night and I’m left somewhat of a zombie trying to figure out what exactly I was doing rather than doing it.
But I’m rambling here (zombie mode has kicked in early this evening). I’m supposed to be making a plan of some sort.
And I’m coming up with nothing but blanks.
I think it’s time to stop, pray, go back to the drawing board, and figure things out a bit. And if I’ve figured it all out by tomorrow, I’ll be sure to let you know. And if it continues to be somewhat of a struggle, don’t worry. I won’t write about that every day.
But the hills and mountains we encounter on the path and the rivers we have to wade or swim are those parts that make the journey worth recounting, aren’t they? It’s all part of the experience. Of writing. Of life.