All I want to do is write a blog. This didn’t used to be a hard task for me. I used to crap those things out like writing was easy – like stringing together words to make clever sentences and hitting publish was just like breathing. But now… Oh now.
I’ve been thinking about writing this blog since Monday. Monday, people. That was four days ago. Has something more interesting happened since then? No, of course not. But my brain could have used the exercise.
Regardless, I didn’t do it. I am doing it now, and that’s what counts, right? Unless you have a goal - a lofty goal such as National Blog Posting Month which looms on the horizon, along with its predecessor Nanowrimo. In previous years I attempted posting a blog per day, every day for the month of November. Each time I failed - though I think I came close in 2008. (I was 5 days from a win in 2008 – ironically I wrote 45 blog posts in November 2007 before I’d even heard about Nablopomo.)
This year, despite my massive attack of lack-of-inspiration and/or motivation, I am going to try again. Screw posting every day for a month, though – I am shooting for the moon, biting off more than I can chew, bringing out the big guns – I am going to participate in National Novel Writing Month.
My fear of failure is getting the better of me. Do I even attempt to write over sixteen hundred words a day? Considering I am not doing so well at even pushing out a couple hundred every week is it really possible for me to be able to write a whole book? In a month?
I’ve joined the website, carefully written my Novel Information and joined the forums for my region. I hope that I can find motivation there, but I’m finding a (not) surprising amount of college and high school students. It seems very few people past the age of 25 have the motivation (read: time?) to try to write a novel in a month. It makes sense, really. It’s not hard to commit to writing every night when there is no laundry to do or dinner to make. No kids? Why not!
I think about my mother and how she used to write at night when she got home from work. She had dedication – a gene I fear missed my generation. How did she did do it all of those years? I will never know. But I want that dedication. I want to write a book in a month. I have Crystal over on the other side of the pond who said she'd give it a shot too. The Boy is behind me, even if he doesn't know yet that it means crappy dinners for a month. So I am going to try. I am going to try to prove myself wrong. I am not a failure, or a quitter or any of those things. Right? Right?
Just say 'Right', okay?
Just say 'Right', okay?