Today is the first day of National Novel Writing Month, which I’ve never participated in before. I have had a few friends who’ve taken up the challenge, and at least one who successfully completed a novel in November! Something to aspire to.
Deciding to join NaNoWriMo isn’t a simple thing for me. Earlier this year, one of my best friends (who is also an academic escape artist) told me that they had stopped reading new releases and were mainly rereading books and series with which they were familiar; delving into new texts was anxiety-provoking, maybe even activating. Last week while in the sci-fi / fantasy section of a local bookstore (arguably my favourite section of any bookstore), I found my anxiety climbing as I browsed the titles and eye-grabbing covers. I realized that I, too, was feeling overwhelmed by the sorts of books I love most, and it was relatively easy to pinpoint where my anxiety was coming from: more than self-doubt, this anxiety is masking an intense feeling of failure, accompanied by a deep fear around the possibility of fighting my way into a(nother) coveted inner circle only to be cast out.
Rather than treating this November as a challenge by which to prove something to myself, I resolve to use this spacetime to reclaim something that I love dearly: writing. And writing fiction, which I’ve neglected for too long! I already know I’m a writer of many shades, but this November I want to find out what kind of storyteller I am. I’ll try to keep an account of my month here.
I plan to write every day, even on weekends. I’ll need to write 1,667 words per day, but I’m rounding up a bit for a daily goal of 1,700 words. To inaugurate NaNoWriMo, I’m having Turkish tea and baklava at one of my favourite cafés in Lansing, the Social Sloth.
the skyride season 