A few days ago – when I made the decision to have a crack at NaNoWriMo this year, it seemed kind of like a mountain in the distance. I could see all of it, and it wasn’t too intimidating at all. Of course now we’re much closer to the mountain, and I’m starting to freak out just a little bit.
What the hell was I thinking ?
It’s not so much that there’s a mountain in front of me – it’s that I can’t see anything but the mountain, and we’re still several days from beginning the climb up it’s lower slopes.
Maybe I need to buy some blinkers – like they put on horses – only these will stop me from seeing anything up, down, or sideways. I could fashion them out of two toilet roll tubes. That’s it! A pair of goggles, made out of toilet roll tubes, worn while writing the fifty thousand words needed to climb the mountain.
If you’re questioning my sanity already, good – because I am too. How on earth did I think I was going to be able to write 50,000 words in a month ? I’m almost contemplating changing my plans entirely, and writing a novel instead of a collection of trumped up blog posts – because at least with a novel I can invent all manner of rubbish and just go with it. It won’t be a well written novel, and it will never get published, but I’ll be able to buy a NaNoWriMo T-Shirt, and wear it with the knowledge that I didn’t lie.
There’s only one problem. I have no plot. I believe attempting to get through November without any plot or outline is known as “pantsing it” – writing by the seat of your pants. That kind of appeals to me, because it’s how I’ve always written blog posts. I generally have no idea what I’m going to write before I start typing – the words just tend to fall out of my fingers. Sure, sometimes they dribble out of my fingers, or have to be pried out with sharp instruments, but on the whole – nope – I’ve never got a plan.
I’ll shut up about NaNoWriMo now. You’ve heard enough of this already – I know I have. I suppose if I’m writing a novel throughout November, you’ll get it in serial form in the blog (otherwise I end up writing a blog, AND the book, and that seems a little bit too mad – even for me). Or maybe I should really just keep the chapters to myself – just in case they are unspeakably horrific.
What do you think I should do? Write A story, or write MY story? My day-to-day story? Because that’s the decision I kind of have to make.