Sometimes in life, you have to let go. Sometimes in life, you have to accept that A Thing is categorically Not Happening. Sometimes in life, you just have to admit that you’re not going to continue doing something because trying to do it is actually making you mildly miserable along the way. Sometimes in life, you have to give up.
Yes, my friends, once again I have given up on NaNoWriMo before I’d even reached the mid-way point.
If we’re being honest, I gave up last week, but I’ve been writing dribs and drabs of text here and there in order to be able to truthfully update my word count every day (gotta have that streak!). However, I’ve just reached a point where I am categorically Not Having Fun. And NaNoWriMo is meant to be fun, right? Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s also hard work – writing a novel is never going to be remotely easy – but the fun element is meant to be included somewhere in that, right? And when it genuinely stops being fun, why continue putting yourself through the slog every single day?
Why put yourself through the constant internal argument you have with yourself where one voice is saying ‘I can’t write, I’m not a writer, I’m not good at this, I don’t want to’ (this voice is the whiny one) and the other voice is saying begrudgingly ‘come on, just write 100 words, you can write 100 words in no time and you’ll feel better about it’. There’s only so long that second voice can continue to reason with the whiny brat that is the first voice.
When I do get into the swing of writing and everything is working and my characters are conversing of their own accord, yeah, okay, that’s a lot of fun and it feels great. Hey, look at me, I’m creating, I’m writing, I can write!!
But when I’m forcing myself (by way of snacks and treats) to just hit word count every day? I end up feeling like crap about myself, about my story, about everything around me. And that doesn’t sound like a very healthy mind set, does it? I end cranky and down on myself and then feeling like crap because writing (or, rather, procrastinating writing) is taking up all my time that I would normally spend reading and I haven’t read a thing all month etc. etc.
I’ve come to the conclusion that, once again, my NaNoWriMo attempt has been abandoned for another year at least. And I’m strangely okay with that. In fact, I feel something like relief, like a weight has been lifted. Because it’s dumb to put this much pressure on yourself if you’re just consistently Not Feeling It.
And I still love my story idea, I’m not giving up on that, it just might take me a little longer than 30 days to truly do it justice. That’s fine, that’s good, even. And, hey, I might start writing again tomorrow, I might start writing again next week, or next month, or next year, and that’s honestly okay. For the sake of my own mental health and self-esteem, that’s okay.
To all those amazing, amazing writers doing NaNoWriMo this year…
I salute you. I wish you all soaring word counts and delightful fun with your novel.
You can do it, go smash it.
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The Terror of Knowing 