My lesson from NaNoWriMo is: I fucking hate the idea of writing a novel in a month. Before November, a close and important friend urged me to attempt this and I did manage to squeeze out five good chapters before I really felt like the whole grinder to write something good in that short of time pretty much train-wrecked my creative process. It train-wrecked to the point where I didn’t want to write at all, and I didn’t. it probably didn’t help that I had a cadre of personal issues to deal with, but I don’t look at those as reasons. Those are excuses, so I don’t linger on those, nor do I hold them up as a core issue to my fundamental problem; I simply cannot be rushed.
I do feel myself getting back on the rails, but it kind of surprised me just how damaging to the way I create stories the whole concept of NaNoWriMo was. I mean, it made me angry how badly it nuked my willingness to write. It also reminded me that I am simply a person that has to, must do things on his own terms, or he will simply not do them. The whole act of doing it felt like throwing feces on a wall and trying to call it a story. I’m not a fucking monkey; I don’t write on command and I don’t like flinging poo and calling it wordsmithing. I think for me, the creative process is slower, so I can work things out in my mind, walk the story through in my head.
The good news is I have five good chapters of this, what I feel is a fairly unique post-apocalyptic story that is, surprisingly not focused on zombies and does not involve a dystopian future. I am going to start working on this story again, starting tomorrow. Maybe I will post a few lines from it, but as it stands, this is really second draft stuff. I think I will also get back to the thing I was doing, where I’d write other stuff as a diversion from the main thing I was writing. I have a few short stories kicking around in my head that I’m going to write, then look to get published in magazines.
So yeah, I’m back at it.