Today starts the annual running of the writers through the streets of the month-long insanity we call NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).
Am I participating this year? No, I’m not.
Why? You might ask. Well, every year for the last twenty years, this grandma drives over the river and through the woods to my grandkids’ home in the Midwest. I end up losing the last third of the month, and it’s frustrating as hell. I made a promise to myself when my eldest grandchild was born; I would always spend one major holiday with them—either Thanksgiving or Christmas. Thus far, we’ve traveled to the Midwest every November.
Maybe when the littles are grown up enough to visit me, I’ll prepare a novel. In the meantime, I’m trying to finish the first two novels I never penned to the end. Not to mention the backstories of the other fifteen or so characters crawling around my imagination. Or the stories I owe my grandkids and D&D players from games gone by.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to participate in the challenge.
Two years ago, I sat down and started a novel. I didn’t win. I wrote every day for eighteen days and was on a roll. I had every intention of writing while we traveled. By the time we reached our destination, I had missed two days of writing and lost my momentum as I spent quality time with my kids and grandkids.
While I won’t officially participate, I plan to gain traction during the time I have available and try to get the bones of the story to ‘Fin.’ I can write 2000 words a day. I prove it to myself every time I prepare a blog post.
I won’t tire you with more of my reasons, excuses if you will, for not officially participating in NaNoWriMo. Go, write your novel, and know that I’m rooting for you.