Not counting today, and I am not, there is exactly four days left of November and NANOWRIMO. For those who don't know, which is apparently most people, NANOWRIMO is the abbreviation of National Novel Writing Month, AKA November. There's a site that basically organizes this whole thing where you write a 50,000 words (min) novel in a month. The point is to just write everyday and get it out of the way, even if it's crap. Editing and all that magic can happen later.
It's also something we do for our creative writing class. Now thankfully, my creative writing teacher is not evil, so she doesn't require us to hit the full word count, she just wants weekly progress. That's it. But for me, this isn't about the class, not really. It's about something I started about six years ago, when I was a wee lass of 11 years. I am currently still technically a wee lass, but less, I should hope. Not the point.
I started this novel when I was eleven, and I wrote like 8000 words for it before I realized my writing was shit and I liked the idea too much to ruin it with my crap writing skills. So what I did was put it aside, with the intention to get back to it after I upped my writing skillz. That didn't really happen. So when last year, the first year I took creative writing, Mrs. Cutter -aka my writing teacher aka the love of my life she's amazing- told us about NANOWRIMO I thought that was the perfect opportunity to pick this story back up. Trouble was, I wasn't, and am not, a fast writer. I was still in the beginning stages of letting go of my borderline obsessive need for perfection before moving on. A big problem for writing, as it made me edit while I was writing and slowed me down a ton.
So I started it back up, didn't finish. I wrote about 18,000 words, and five thousand of it was crossed out because I realized it contradicted either something that had happened or was going to happen. Now this year, I've picked it back up again, and my personal goal for NANOWRIMO was to finish this story. And I have, almost. Now, however, the problem lies in the fact that about 13,000 of my word count is in another document from last year. Yikes.
I'm trying to add more stuff into the story, but there's only so much I can do after the plot has taken it's course. I've added more description and extra scenes here and there, but ultimately, I know what I have to do. Start the sequel. And fuck, motherfucker, I am not ready for that. I have nothing planned out for how that's going to go, vs the first one which I spent six years working and developing in terms of plot. This is going to be completely new territory, and that's pretty scary.
I should really stop now, as this is really just my way of procrastinating from writing. Like that dance break and food break and drawing break that I took over the past three hours that I was supposed to be writing. Also, I've been listening to the same six fucking songs from Queen since like three days ago on repeat. Halp.
Moods: THAT'S WHY THEY CALL ME MISTER FAHRENHEIT I'M TRAVELING AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT I WANNA MAKE A SUPERSONIC MAN OUTTA OF YOU + crying on the inside because my dad just left for Iran and he's gonna be there for three weeks for business stuff and that means no parents for three weeks which is kind of nice but also NO + is it obvious I'm high af on caffeine