Words Written on Day 17: 1,692
Total Words Written for NaNoWriMo: 16,876
If it’s not effective in anything else, nanowrimo is revealing to me something about myself. I’m really not that great (read “terrible”) at sticking to something for longer than two weeks.
Diets. Writing projects. Nanowrimo.
It’s not for lack of desire to write. I really want to finish strong. I still hope to, though the finish line is looking farther and farther away each day.
So what is it?
I generally run on a loose system of priorities. Obviously, parenting and home duties are near the top of the list (though when I have an editing deadline, if you stop by for a visit, please don’t check to see if I’ve recently dusted the living room).
Work and classes are also priorities. (I’m nearing the end of this semester and so looking forward to a month free of essays and research papers).
My personal writing comes after all those in my mental priorities. And I did have a couple of deadlines I needed to meet over the past few days, which might have contributed to my lack of progress in nanowrimo.
But I don’t think those are the only factors in my terrible (non-existent) writing stats over the past few days.
The story isn’t coming together. Usually my times away from the computer are my thinking times, in which I visualize a scene or a character’s back story. So I’m waiting for the epiphanies, the awesome plot development, the ultra-complex characters … and it’s just not happening.
My mind feels suffocated, like it’s not getting enough oxygen. Which is strange for this time of year. Autumn usually brings out the writer in me. But she seems to have gone into hibernation mighty early.
Or maybe it’s the child in me, balking at the commandment to perform in a certain manner … with a specific word count and a looming deadline, when all she wants to do is sit outside and watch the leaves falling. It’s such a magical time of year, with the golden and purple and red everywhere you look, clinging to trees, fluttering to the ground, skipping down streets, inviting you to stop, look up, breathe and just embrace the moment.
I think it’s only then that the writing inspiration arrives in full glory. Once my heart has been filled. In the old days, no writer, no matter how awesome a quill, could write with an empty inkwell.
My heart, my soul, is like that, I guess. Yours too probably.
If you’ve hit the same lull I have, regardless of the cause, maybe it’s time to sit outside for a while and watch fall fall. Or read a book that fills your mind with ideas. Or light a candle and think and pray. Whatever works best, maybe all of the above.
If it’s time to write, when it’s time to write, it will come. Find out what the writer in you is waiting for. Fill your heart and soul with whatever that is … and then write.