I’ve been talking alot about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). It’s a fantastic challenge, fifty thousand words in thirty days, a smorgasbord of writing frenzy. I am very proud to say I am a part of it this year.
I planned. I picked my story, did a plot outline, set up character sheets and got everything all ready to sit down Halloween night and watch the ticker count down to zero. It was amazing. The words flew forth as I joined a virtual write in on WriteChat.net. I banged out two thousand words in an hour and a half, and you know what? They were pretty good.
I wrote again yesterday, adding another two thousand words to my novel. I updated my word count and I was so freaking energized and proud. It felt AWESOME. Twenty-four hours of pure writing high. It was great.
Today is a new day. It started good enough. I got up before the baby started squaking for me, I did a bit of free writing, had my coffee and corn flakes. All was going well. Then I logged into the NaNo site. That’s when reality slapped me in the face.
I’ve been slacking. Horribly. And I suddenly felt all that euphoric energy leeching out of me, leaving a void in my creativity. Some might call it writer’s block. I’m going to call it what it is. Lack of motivation. I have logged a measly four thousand words, yet my writing buddies are at eight thousand, nine thousand, eleven thousand.
I have no real excuse for my low number. I thought I was doing alright. I’ve been hitting my daily goals. I still feel completely and totally disheartened. My motivation is gone. The story has gone stagnant. All the prep work I’ve done means less than nothing. The worst part? I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to get back to that place where my work means anything at all. I have to though. I accepted this challenge, and I am going to beat it. I AM going to get to fifty thousand words if it kills me.