NaNoWriMo. You cheeky little son of a bitch.
I am now 39,000 words in.
I was doing so well! I was ahead of target and everything, then I got cocky and I slowed down and yesterday I didn’t write a thing. Not one damned thing.
Now there are less than three days left of the month and I need to put 11,000 words down onto paper.
*Hyperventilates into a paper bag.*
I’m fine, really.
It’s incredible that I have written so much in the last month, I’m certain most of it will be scrapped on an edit, but it’s still there! In black and white and saved on USB.
It’s even more incredible that it’s these last 11,000 words that seem destined to kill me.
I’ve only written one another book in full before, and I found myself doing the same thing then. I saw I was close to the end and I rushed to type out everything as quickly as possible, yet the faster I typed the less seemed to find it’s way onto the page.
But I got there eventually. And I am convinced that come Wednesday I will be able to type the words ‘THE END’ in bold beautiful letters onto my last page.
It’s painful and it’s frustrating but we have to remind ourselves why we do this.
We do this because there are stories living inside of us that need to be told. Even if they are not necessarily heard.
We do this because sometimes when we find our story we discover something about ourselves as well.
We do this because we love it, even when we hate it.
So, take a deep breath, get those laptops a-humming and type your angsty little hearts out.
50,000 words, here we fucking come.