No More NaNoWriMo
NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. Thirty days to write 50,000 words.
One year ago today, I met some people who would soon occupy my every waking moment. Sometimes my sleeping ones, too.
They showered with me and ran with me and I felt bad when I had to do horrible things to them.
But that’s how it goes.
Because those people? Were my characters. I spent the month of November obsessed with my heroes. I’d stay up way later than I should, trying to get my thoughts on the page. By the end of it, I had over 86k words.
That was just the beginning.
I have spent the past year revising, editing, revising some more. I’ve written more first chapters than I can count on one hand. Maybe two. I have added and cut and changed the entire ending – more than a few times. I’ve agonized over words. I’ve wondered what more I could do, how I could up the tension, how I could make my characters more real.
I learned a lot. Mostly, that I have a lot to learn.
And now, on the eve of NaNoWriMo, my manuscript is complete. Ninety-two thousand, six hundred words.
That doesn’t mean I’m ready to start again today.
I need time.
Time to read. Time to ponder. Time to leave my manuscript as is and wait and see if someone – and by someone, I mean a literary agent – thinks it’s good enough to sell.
I’m okay with that. I don’t have the pull of it I’ve had over the past year, the constant deep-seated need to tinker and craft.
It’s time to move on, to break up with my characters.
To find new ones with whom to have an affair.
I have a few ideas. Maybe even resurrecting the story I played with my first time around with NaNoWriMo.
Just not this month.