I know I said in an earlier post that I was determined to finish NaNo this year. The truth is, I gave up with that story about the 7th of November. Very early. I exchanged NaNo in exchange for my own personal project.
Every morning, since October 29th, I have woken up and followed this routine:
I crawl over Jon, still asleep, in bed, and get dressed. As I am waking up, Hera bounces around the room, all wide-eyed, energetic husky, whoa-bearing (it’s the term we give to her throwing up her paws past her ears and slamming them into the ground – the most adorable thing I have ever seen a dog do) up a storm. I move with deliberate calmness, because it drives her crazy.
Opening the door, she bolts down the stairs with the energy of a seven-year-old on Christmas morning. I am a few minutes behind her, as I have morning-bathroom type stuffs to take care. After I’m brushed and smell a little bit better, I follow Hera down stairs where she’s waiting at the back door. She’ll stand tall and scratch along the door knob, as this is the way we’ve trained her to tell us she needs to go outside. I tell her to chill. She sits, wagging her tail, staring impatiently at the portal between her and her favorite place in the world. I open the door and rarely manage to avoid being knocked in the legs as she bounds outside.
So I set about making coffee while she enjoys herself in the yard. When the coffee is done, I pour myself a mug and whistle for Hera to come back inside. Then I head back upstairs, open Microsoft word, and write for as long as I am able to pay attention to the screen.
Some mornings I only write, ‘God I can’t think of anything to write!’ Some mornings I complain about the previous day, about being poor, or, originally enough, not having anything to write. There are lists of gratitude and lists of dreams, and even the occasional poem or piece of flash fiction.
This is the most consistently I have ever written. And somehow, in the midst of all of that, letting go of NaNo, which often has me completely sick of writing by December 1, doesn’t feel like a failure. I simply don’t care. I have established my own patterns. For the sake of framing my accomplishment under the terms of NaNo, the figure above is the amount that I wrote between November 1st and November 30th. But that’s 23 thousand words with no artificial deadline. It’s 23 thousand words I wrote with my own will-power, and through my own intention to become, truly, a writer.
I plan to continue this pattern until December 31st, at which point, I will commence with a two to three month activity called the floating half-hour, in which I pick a random half-hour period every day and write during that period. It sounds much more difficult than my morning routine, but after building the muscles that this routine has been working out, I believe I will be capable of challenging my muse, of practicing creativity, and of actively coming closer every day to my true and ultimate goal.
(To be a writer… obviously. xD)
That’s all for today.