✍️ NaNoWriMo 2017: Thank God It's Over? ✨

Damn, it’s over. I am so relieved, and yet also sad.

Relieved because, well, now I do not have to stress about writing a minimum of 1,667 words per day (which is a weird combination of preposterous and so very doable). Sad because, beyond the stress and the writer's block and the lack of plan (why, past self? why did you think that was a good idea?), NaNoWriMo reminds me every year how much I love and miss writing. How it soothes my soul. It's one of those hobbies that was such an integral part of my life, until suddenly other things took over, things that were 'more important,' causing writing to fall to the wayside. A sometimes, or maybe affair, if there was time.

NaNoWriMo insured I *made* time for it, made others respectful and understanding when it came to me needing that time. Unlike every year, I will try to make sure that I dedicate a portion of my day, or week (at least) to writing, it deserves my time, and I deserve its benefits.

A month of Pantsing has taught me this: I might not be a true planner, but I sure as hell am not a Pantser either. I managed to get by, this time (though 'get by' is stretching it a bit, scrape through might be closer to the truth), but I am not sure my brain can handle such outright lawlessness again. Next year will have to be different. Let's hope I remember this next year.

To all of you who participated in National Novel Writing Month this year, whether you achieved the 50,000 words or not, I just wanted to say: you’re amazing. For accepting the challenge, for going on the insane month-long novelling adventure, for creating something where previously there was nothing.

I did not write a novel, I wrote wot I’ve describe to many as “a series of borderline-teenage journaling rambling sessions with the occasional random story thread, section, or beginning scattered throughout,” and there were days where I almost stopped because I felt like it was cheating. Like my win wouldn’t mean as much as if I wrote a proper novel.

But, you know wot? It does mean something. It feels good to know that somewhere within the hot mess of 50,000 words there are characters and plots and story-lines waiting to be expanded, waiting to come to life. Now, whether I choose to do so or not, who knows. But the point is, I dedicated this month to writing, and I wrote.