So like I wrote on Medium, I’m taking part in this year’s NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). For those of you who wonder what that is, NaNoWriMo is an annual initiative for writers to write 50,000 words throughout the whole month of November.
The website is fully-featured to give you the support you need to get your 50K words done by November 30. You update your word count daily, and a helpful graph charts your performance, with a trend line to let you know how much you need to write in order to stay on par.
It initially went okay, for the first few days for me… until it was the weekend.
Okay, I know, I should’ve been more disciplined… but I was swamped with other commitments, and when I had free time… I spent it on Rocket League.
Not proud of that. So after the first weekend of November was over, I settled back down to write in overdrive. I pushed through, trying to get my word count bar to catch up as much as I can to the par line.
Then I fell sick.
My body was besieged by a terrible flu, no doubt caused by the irregular weather patterns going on in my city. So I didn’t write for two days.
By the time I recovered, I was six or seven thousand words behind the par line.
I forced myself to write. The NaNoWriMo community has been great; stories of similar conditions to mine are aplenty on Twitter, where I would go whenever I needed a motivational push. Prominent writers often give “pep talks”, little words of encouragement to urge you to continue the struggle.
And now… comes another hurdle.
If my novel was a steam engine, then I am running on the last vestiges of creative fuel. Words are getting harder to put out. My characters now seem dull and uninteresting, boring and stupid. My plot, now appearing to be more incomprehensible as ever, is not even close to telling the story that I want to tell to my audience.
But I know I must go on. I haven’t written fiction in a decade, but the feeling is still the same: some stories just write themselves, build themselves, uncover themselves as I write. In order to find those little creative gems, I need to push through, and write. Even though it’s pages and pages of literary shit.