Today marks the halfway point of NaNoWriMo. It’s right around now every year that I look back at the absolute drivel I’ve written, the sporadic bursts of writing, the typo-ridden document I lovingly call a novel and start to wonder-
Is it worth it?
Is it worth a mostly wordless December? A January fraught with disbelief that I can make this ‘novel’ not only legible, but something people want to read? Is it worth the total depletion of every word I know? The resultant over use of the ‘find-replace’ feature in word when I realize just how much I relied on the f-bomb to serve as an adjective, adverb and noun?
I still think it is.
The camaraderie in my region, in the Facebook groups I participate in, on my Twitter feed – the complete and total dedication to a goal. The single-mindedness of accepting nothing less than success? It’s something I keep with me all year long. It’s what I remind myself of come June when the weather here has finally turned warm and I want nothing more than to spend every evening in front of a bonfire deciding which beer to review next.
I’ve written just over 25000 words – right on target. Two of the days I knew I would write have already come and gone – and I’m still on target.
And I’m really looking forward to the next fifteen days.