NaNo So Far…
I’m going to start doing a weekly roundup (depending on how long it takes me to hit the 50K mark) for NaNo this year, but I feel wretched that I missed yesterday’s IwaC *no excuse other than I procrastinated and I’m sorry because I didn’t have the time I thought I would… blah blah blah*
So here’s what happened today.
I woke up before the asscrack of dawn, did my healthypixie workout, and showered/breakfasted (not at the same time, as that would make showering awkward and breakfast a bit too soggy. I do however brush my teeth in the shower – not while I have shampoo or conditioner – I learned my lesson after the first few hundred times of YAY EWWWW SADNESS IN MY MOUTH sorry… I wandered way off the path on this one. Mushy brain swamp after a day of writing.
Here’s the thing. I hand wrote 28 pages. Did kickass, felt so impressed with myself, then went and set it all up on Twitch so at noon today, I could start typing up Day 1’s writing effort.
I typed up 12 pages’ worth of words, and came out the other end of that 3 hrs later (I had a call at 3pm to Manchester, England) with nearly double the count. I WORKED MY ASS OFF, cramped up my hand (I’m not complaining, just wait for it), and felt so fucking proud of my results. Why wouldn’t I? 28 pages!!! That’s nothing to gawp at sadly, that’s for sure. But that was writing for nearly six hours straight. And I nearly doubled it (would have, aside from some unexpected rain and other distractions) in HALF THE TIME.
So here’s my dilemma.
I have hand written almost every long piece I share with people over a thousand words. Yeah, I can usually bang out a quick thou’ in about 20-30min when I’m pressed for time and have a topic.
GUILT. OH MY STARS. GUILT.
Is it wrong of me to want to type everything and leave my pretty paper for other fun things? NaNo doesn’t really seem like the time to get all flouncy and pretty with the words. It’s time to toss the salad on the plate, slam the chicken thigh on there, and make sure you have a good baked potato. Any extra goodies like salt and pepper and butter get added after you’re at the table. The table being the “NaNo” itself.
Am I discrediting myself by not adhering to my time honoured tradition of handwriting first?
Only time will tell. I’m petrified I will feel like a sham artist because I didn’t do the pen and paper method first.
I mean, I literally *goes to count* have 25 pads of paper, 2 packages of 250 wide-ruled loose leaf paper, alphabetical index cards, and a plethora of other paper-like items (sticky notes, etc.) on this bed (read: office desk) beside me. Did I buy those in vain? NO. I know I will use them, and greedily fill the shelves again and again with the used bits of once-noble trees.
But here’s the crux of it all: If I don’t use them for NaNo, how will I be able to prove this is legitimately original content? See, that’s my issue. I don’t worry when I bang out a quick thousand, because there is no one who wants to claim it is theirs… right? Right.
So why am I so paranoid about proving my other longer pieces? I think it falls into two reasons. Guilt and Fear.
I am guilty of having been in several horrible situations in my life and losing all of my previous hard copies from all the other works I’ve done, and now if I was to publish those (I keep insane amounts of backups… no, you’re not thinking enough. I email the email to my other email and save that email and send it as an attachment email to another email that is devoted to only being the email recipient of the other emails with attachments. That’s not including the drives (google, terabyte, jump, etc.) and yes, I send them to multiples of those as well. I’m pretty sure that one of my stories, ‘Shamrock to Earth’ has been backed up well over 300 times. And I’m not so ridiculously assuming that’s a GENEROUSLY LOW estimation.)
My fear is kind of well justified – at least to my sleepy-at-the-end-of-day-one-and-writing-another-article kind of justified. I think I’m (not really, but follow the ‘logic’ and you’ll see why I claim this) cursed. See, I get to know someone, they find out I’m a writer, and BEG me to send them my stuff, claiming that they will read it. Months go by, and nothing (again, I’m not whining and bitching, there’s a BUT coming…), and when I casually mention them reading it, there’s always a reason for the delay. WHEN they do, they tend to have tons of questions – which shows me A) I’m doing something right if they want to know more, and B) I am clearly not putting enough info into the story. Sadly, many times, my stories fall on the laps of those who just kind of… fall away from me. Is it a fear of not wanting to confront me about the story? I state repeatedly that I ACTUALLY DO enjoy hearing what people like and dislike, because I want to do this for a living. I am separate from my work.
You not liking how I write doesn’t mean you don’t like me, and vice versa. I know plenty of people who aren’t huge fans of someone’s writing, but the person is one of their closest friends. I get that my writing isn’t for everyone, and I’m alright with that. I just don’t understand the idea of hiding. Far too many feel their writing is an extension of themselves. Honestly, some of the pieces I write I don’t even recognise as my own writing when I look back on it. I write in the moment. I do plan things to some extent, but it’s the whole cob rather than the itty bitty corn kernels. I know that there are some fabulous writers who can plan out each shape and colour and size and sweetness per kernel, but I love being able to learn about the characters just as everyone else does.
Okay, bitching over. I set out to give you my stats about today, and instead, I climbed into my tea party hut and decided to throw a pity party for Pixie instead.
It has to be better tomorrow. My pen is going to throw a fit at me, but I think it will be able to handle it. Let’s see what happens when I have six solid hours of typing tomorrow instead of only three.
See you tomorrow!