50,000 words in one month. It doesn’t seem like much, and it shouldn’t be. I have written words before in numbers like these. I brag because these words mostly made meaningful sentences and formed a homogenous story. Maybe I shouldn’t brag after all as none of that has happened of late.
I have not even come close to writing novels in the last few years, only short stories, articles, and children’s stories. It was easy to write before when I was still at university. I had lots of free time between semesters, when I wasn’t working. I just had to sit in room alone by myself, and dream up of exotic people in impossible situations. If you haven’t already guessed it, yes, I was the girl who would turn down party invitations, to watch a movie, read a good book, or write.
This year I want to find time and write something longer than a short story, and I am so serious about it I entered the Nanowrimo challenge. If I succeed, I will not only have a first draft of a novel, but I also get to brag again.
There is one thing bugging me though, if I succeed with the writing part, who’s to say I will do the editing part. I hate editing. It makes me crazy. I desperately don’t want to put another finished story on the list of “to-edit-in-the-near-future-in-other-words-never” pile.
Maybe they should dedicate a month for editing, call it : National Novel Editing Month; or Nanoedmo. It should not be right after November, so as not to suck the joy out of writing something right after finishing. Plus Christmas would be extra distracting and let’s face it Christmas is a good excuse for not putting in all the hours needed. It should be in May. May is a happy month, the delight of having summer approaching could balance the misery of editing.
With that I should go back to writing, I didn’t do so good the first couple of days and I have to catch up.