I was just over to Karen's blog leaving a comment on her Thursday Thirteen where I confessed that I was panicked at the thot of the fast approaching go date for NaNoWriMo. I said, 'Only six days left before the starting gate and I don’t even have my shoes on yet.'
Well, I've just realized I don't really want to wear shoes and I'd rather not run on a paved track with carefully drawn lines. I want to run barefoot in shallow surf with the wind blowing my hair in my face so I can barely see where I am going. I want to listen to the stories the breeze exchanges with the waves and learn the wisdom of 'letting it flow' from them.
Those of you familiar with my guest posts on Write Stuff will know that I am at war with the Harpies of Perfectionism. What you might not know is that I have approximately twenty novels stuck in the planning stage with a couple of hundred vividly visualized characters stuck in notes and in my head where they are constantly chattering and occasionaly moping.
It seemed pointless to start another project. And I hated the thot of setting ongoing projects aside while I started yet another one that would probably just get stuck like all the rest.
This is my third year participating. I haven't won yet. In 2004 I reached just under 5000 words. In 2005 I reached just under 12,000. Both years I was distracted by daily events at the time. But what writer isn't? The most viscious distraction tho was my obsessive rewriting, editing, tweaking and researching of obscure information so I would not make factual faux pas.
Every five-year-old with fingerpaint knows that you have to make a mess in order to make art. This is what I need from NaNoWriMo this year: Permission to make a mess.