Why I Scrapped NaNoWriMo
I’ll admit I thought it was this awesome thing at first. However, I can’t want to do something because it’s awesome, because I want to prove it to myself that I can do it, or because I want to be a part of it and actually go through with it. To be able to actually go through with something, I have to be able to see how it will benefit me right then and there, in that very moment. Otherwise, I can’t do it. For some reason, that’s how it’s always been for me. However, I had an epiphany throughout November.
The fact that I started about five or so days late didn’t help me. It’s like a major assignment for English: If you start late, you’re already that much behind. If your teacher has/you have outlined a schedule for you that works depending solely on the time given to you, you’re pretty much screwed and have to do more work each day. This was a novel, and it was 50,000 words. That’s a lot of words. I got up to 6,627 words. Seeing people with 50,000 words and counting IN JUST ONE DAY didn’t help, either.
It wasn’t like I could get depressed or feel more depressed from not doing it. In fact, after I realized I started late, I stopped caring about it. From the start, I lacked motivation to actually do it. I didn’t care about it because I had to focus on that and focus on myself. During November, I wasn’t doing so hot. I didn’t want to expect myself to finish 50,000 words. That kind of pressure doesn’t do anything for me but make me have expectations and fear of not being able to do it and get it done on time.
I don’t really know how to explain it; I just hate that feeling.
But I begun
I realized I was writing crap. I was rushing. Day to day, I’d rush to get in my word quota. The words were just pennies trying to make a dollar; they were just there to add up. It was crap. Not because I hadn’t planned, but because I write crap under pressure. It was also getting a bit too personal, when that’s not at all what I’d ever intended for it to be. Nothing too personal, even if the character is a piece of me.
BUT I started on it. I finally started on it. That counts for something, right?
Thus, maybe in the future I’ll be able to do it. But for right now, I need to find the peace of me before I try to write a piece of me’s life.