NaNoWriMo Challenge

This is my first endeavor into the wonderful and exciting world of NaNoWriMo.  I’m four days into it and have completed my word count each day so far.  I’m up to 6,919 words.  But I am questioning my novel idea.  I am beginning to hate my two main characters.  Their personalities have gotten away from me.  They’re jerks.  Normally I try to keep my characters positive and people-friendly.  But not these two young men.  They are both alcoholics.  One worse than the other.  Sex-craved, chauvinistic, chest-pounding a-holes.  How did I lose control of them?  Is this a good thing to allow your creative juices to run away with itself? 

But I know this contest is only for a rough draft, and this work is definitely rough.  In more ways than one.  I have added a lot of swearing and sex.  These are two young men who grew up in abusive homes.  In trouble since elementary school.  Into heavy-metal.  Struggling to find jobs, and then trying to hold on to them.  I want to make them as realistic as possible, but being a female trying to delve into the male mind, it’s not an easy task.  But with this challenge, I wanted to go outside of my comfort zone.  I needed to do something different.  Something off-color.  Something that wasn’t a romance.  Those would be easier to write, being a woman with a big imagination, and a love of anything romantic. 

So, four days into it, and not struggling…yet.  I’ve been warned.  It’s coming.  The doubts.  The boredom.  The fretting.  The damn-I-don’t-feel-like-writing-today days.  But this is why I write.  It is not to be in the spotlight.  It’s no longer about achieving the fame and fortune, but about just making a decent living while writing and the extra income it could bring in.  Would I love to be a full-time writer?  Yes.  More than anything, I would.  But I’ve learned something by reading a lot of blog posts, and writing sites that I write because I want to.  Not for fame, not for glory, not for the money, but because I just plain love putting words to paper, or to screen, in a lot of cases nowadays.  I’ve mentioned this before, but it is in my blood.  Since I was a child, I had this intense desire to create.  I’ve tried other creative endeavors which I’ve failed miserably at:  painting, drawing, sewing, knitting, crafts…just don’t have it in me, though that talent does run in my family(somehow it just missed me).  But writing, creative writing, having the ability to create characters, and settings, and stories that can last throughout the generations.  I just want to write.  No.  I need to write.  There is no inner peace when I’m not writing.  I crave that peace, that serenity when I’m creating a new world.  It’s about the desire to share new and interesting heroes and villains, about describing the fight between good and evil, and that, in the end, I want to have my characters make a difference, in their lives as well as the readers’ lives.  Is that too much to ask?

So, each day will be a challenge.  To what extent, I have no idea yet.  To all those writing day after day, with the same fire in their souls that burns within mine, I wish you continued success.  Take it one day at a time.  Writing should never be a chore.  For when it becomes that, the fire slowly diminishes and begins to burn out.  Don’t allow that flame to blow out.  You can do this.  You have the creativity, the drive, and the passion to create.  Let it take you to places in the imagination that you never thought you’d go to.  Achieve your writing dreams.  I know I am.  For this is a challenge to myself to say, I can write 50,000 words in 30 days.  And if I can do that, then there is no excuse for me not getting a short story out in that time.  A little push never hurt anyone.

Until next time, friends, happy writing.

Advertisements

A Literary Genius in the Making? More Than Likely Not.

Okay, I’m no literary genius. On one hand, I know that I am not in the same vein as Poe, Steinbeck, or even Hemingway. But on the other hand, I do most certainly believe that I was born with the gene for writing creatively. Nope, can’t draw, paint, sing, or sculpt to save my life, but I do have that special knack for making stuff up. My poor mind is in a constant state of creating: characters, plot lines, beginnings and endings, dialogue, etc. It never ends. I blame this disgruntled brain of mind. But for all it’s worth, I don’t mind all the confusion one iota.

These ideas, they haunt me, but in a Casper-the-friendly-ghost sort of way, not in a Poltergiest sort of way. I have many friends and they all are living in my head! It may be a bit overcrowded in there, but, hey, they haven’t complained as of yet, so who am I to judge? They are never quiet; noisy tenants. But gosh darn it, I love ’em anyway! I get so excited(keep your mind out of the gutter) whenever these thoughts come barreling through and I have no choice but to quick grab a pen and paper and start jotting words down as quickly as they hit me. I have to hurry before these thoughts float away and I’m left with nothing but “damn, that was a good thought; too bad I can’t remember it now!” Hey, give me a break, I’ll be fifty years old this year.

So here I sit, originally, outdoors, my dog at my feet, pen in hand, doing things the old-fashioned way. If I am to get my thoughts down before they melt away like hot breath on cold glass, I have to be quick. Writing it free hand, it comes out so sloppy sometimes. I think it must be my own brand of shorthand. Sometimes I can’t even read what I wrote. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. But write I must. Every writer out there knows the feeling. It is an addiction. A sweet drug that keeps us going day after day. A love of words. A hunger to share what is on our hearts and minds, and of course, in our heads. In our imaginations.

But, alas, the thoughts are slowing down now. My fingers are beginning to get some life and blood flow back in them. Perhaps my friends in my head have decided to retire for the day, perhaps they’re all going off to some party and leaving me behind, tired but sated, for the time being anyway. But I’m not disappointed. At least I know they’ll be back. I am their landlord after all.