Why I Find NaNoWriMo Incredibly Intimidating
NaNoWriMo. It’s November again and this thing rolls around and oh my god, I want it. Do I want it. Does it scare me. If I ever end up doing it, I muse, I might not tell anybody; not for me #Nanowrimo tweets, I’d be too terrified that I’d not finish and people would laugh.
Come to think of it, the laughing people exist mostly in my head. Alongside the terrified people. Anyway.
Nanowrimo. I always thought I had a book in me. Or seven. But it also seemed that:
1. I’d have to deal with my personal history before writing fiction (because writers are a shining example of general mental health and wellbeing).
2. Well, I could deal with personal history via writng (why would anyone want to read that though? It’s not worth it).
3. What would I write about? I could write something…. Not related to me directly (but I need to write the me-stuff first, because… I don’t know. I need to/think it’s correct/feel the need to unburden the soul/I never write it anyway, or at least not finish it).
4. I could plan a whole structure and then fail to stick to it.
5. I could not plan and let myself feel it and then fail and have it all fall apart.
6. I could fail in a million ways, or succeed underwhelmingly.
The above is the prime example of voices in my head. Except the voices never shut up all that much, this is just an excerpt. So. Why would I do NaNoWriMo?
1. because I have so many voices in me, battling for attention
2. because the voices only truly shut up when I’m in the moment, doing something particular
3. because I’ve done a song-per-day project in a duo and a play-per-day project (in a group, with prompts) and it would take me one step further – Nanowrimo is truly writing and battling on your own, with your own self
4. because it could be really fucking cool
5. because I could end up with a book of essays on life ( personal stories and all that)
6. because I’m almost thirty
7. because it could be messy and fun
8. because when I don’t have enough to do I climb the walls
9. because I’m angry and anxious and sad and I don’t need to be
10. because I can.
I’m not saying I’ll do it – or that I am doing it. I’m too scared to say anything more than this. But if the voices let me, I’ll see you on the other side of this month.