On November 30, I managed to write 50,100 words which under Nanowrimo meant I had written a novel in 30 days. Yet I also know that those words will never see the light of day. You see, all of writing is revision, yet what I wrote not only is beyond revision, it was also not my intent. I used Nanowrimo to force the cobwebs off my brain, and recreate the habit of writing daily. I wanted to get the joy back into creating a fictional story, to go into a world of my creation where I was God.
As time goes by, I realize that one of the things I discard easily is my habit of daily writing. Reason being is, it is just too hard to sit there day by day to create something and because I Am a panster (someone who makes it up as he goes along), it feels as if I am wasting time. That I could be doing something else of meaning. And so I convinced myself to stop writing, yet there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about it. And then it hit me that just like being a lawyer, the real reason for giving up was fear. What if I wasn’t good enough, what if no one read my stuff, what if I was a failure. And that insecurity convinced me to let go of writing.
Yet I never really wrote for others. I wrote for myself, and if others read then, it was an added bonus. Getting readership or being published has never been my goal (although it would nice) because when I wrote daily, it helped me to get what was inside me, out. I wrote because it helped me make sense of my world. And so I am grateful for Nanowrimo for rekindling that joy in me.