It’s that time of the year again when writers all over the world drop everything else and write a novel in thirty days. It’s National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).
Last year, the first year I participated, there were 200,530 participants, who wrote a total of 2,872,682,109 words. At the end of the month, there were 37,479 winners. You’re a winner if you write a 50,000 word novel during November. There are no word police at NaNoWriMo, you win if you say you do.
I wrote a novel based on a story I knew. I made a list of thirty things that would happen, and wrote one each day, with a little help from friends and family. I finished, much to my delight.
This year, I’m trying something new. I’m making a story up, as I go along. I’m finding it harder than having a baby. Daily, I struggle to write the 1667 words. I assail myself with questions like, what makes you think you can write a novel? Who on earth is going to find this interesting? What am I going to write next?
I’m behind on my word count this year, but I’m not giving up. What I know is that writers write. And so, I struggle to learn by doing. After all, if it were easy to write a novel, everyone would do it. Right?