As I’m sure a fair number of you know, it is now National Novel Writing Month, a craziness that descends on some of us every November, and which I have been a devotee of for the past nine-ish years. NaNoWriMo taught me how to write to a damn deadline. Not finish. I knew how to do that. But to a deadline? I used to struggle.
It’s also the one time of year that I (this is just my own head) feel like I can get away with being more anti-social than normal and just bury my head in writing. I am an introvert by nature, but adore my friends, who bless them, love to see me and I, them. But this means that there are times the rest of the year where I find myself getting a wee bit brittle, because if they want to visit, I visit.
And words, suffer.
NaNoWriMo is the month where I can trick my brain and instead of feeling guilty, I can say, “I love you, I must make wordcount today.” And everyone gets it. Even my family. Because I’m not the only one out here slogging in the word mines, not that I ever am. But there’s this awesome community of us crazies, strapped to our computers, pounding out together, and we buoy each other up. The rest of the year, writing can be a very solitary career, even with all the friends I have who are authors.
It’s not for everyone.
But for me, NaNoWriMo is my writing devotional of choice.