Or, Lining up all my ducks in a row to shoot down before NaNoWriMo
I decided a week or 10 days ago to give NaNoWriMo a try this year. A legitimate, uncompromising, dead-sprint try.
The upshot has been that suddenly I do not have time to even pretend to write on my story. I am too busy getting everything ready in my life so that all my spare time and energy can go to writing for thirty days, starting in exactly one week.
This is everything from pre-writing blog posts so that I have at least a few things next month that are not directly related to NaNoWriMo progress reports, to clearing out my backlog of commissioned articles to ghost write, to getting my Ren Faire costume finished now (when I should be working on my Halloween costume, but that one may just have to shrivel on the vine this year), to getting done stupid life chores like the cat’s annual vet visit and my oil changed and my prescriptions for next month filled sooner rather than later, to fleshing out my outline and characters even further so that when I write I know what to write, how to write, and where to write it toward.
It is exhausting, and the worst part is that what I want to be doing is writing on my story. For me, the second I am no longer able to choose not to write, it floats to the forefront of my mind as what I most want to do.
But I’m not letting myself unless I have every one of the day’s chores already done (has happened only once). I think if I enjoy (“enjoy”) a gluttony of not-writing for a couple weeks before NNWM, then I will be so tired of not writing that it will seem a relief to go full-tilt. It’s sort of like Mardi Gras season in reverse–instead of gorging on things I can’t have during Lent, I am hoarding all my creative energy to have greater reserves for the marathon ahead.
Because I am like Marianne Dashwood: I do nothing by half-measures. If I commit to something, I commit. I am doing NaNoWriMo. For me this means I will finish my WIP by November 30, and I will finish it in a usable form that will need only polishing revisions not substantive rewrites, and I will not let anything get in my way–not my job, not my life, not myself.
To quote the inimitable Al Bundy, “Let’s rock.”