I did it.

Somehow I managed to write for 30 days in a row. Once I wrote a mere 50 words, and once I wrote a whole 1,570 words. My average was 699 (a real novelist would step that average up another thousand words per day). For the record, my total wordcount for the month was 20,998, about half of which was (fairly terrible) fiction; the rest, letters.

I doubt I will ever again tackle a challenge like this, but I have learned things I could learn no other way:

  • It is possible to write something even on days when the words don’t flow.
  • Writing a story feels surprisingly like reading a story.
  • Telling my story requires a lot of backstory/pre-story to be written out, none of which will be kept in the resulting tale.
  • Questions beget questions beget questions, ad infinitum.
  • First drafts are ugly, and it is so hard to write ugliness, but in my case it turns out the only way to get to the beauty is to start with ugly.
  • My dear darling distractions* outweigh writing, for which I am grateful.

*AKA my family and my home

And there you have it. Surely tomorrow will be bliss, getting to write on a whim again like in the old days. Fare thee well, NaNoWriMo!

“You must be filled with expectancy. You must be awash in hope. You must wonder who will love you, whom you will love next.”

― Kate DiCamillo, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane

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