November was a busy month for me as a writer. For the first time in a few years I committed to NaNo...sorta. For the uninitiated, NaNo is the short-form term used by writers in reference to National Novel Writing Month. Writers commit to getting 50,000 words down in 30 days. Now, I must confess that I did not officially sign up this year. I love the inspiration but, realistically, I felt I could only produce 30,000 words. So, in my writers' forum, we set an accountability corner where we each established what we felt was our own achievable goal. I set mine:Goal:
Nano was freeing. Through the discipline of its daily routine, I have once again found my writing mojo. I didn't make it to 50,000. I made it to 48,437 three days before the end of the month. And, I stopped—not remotely disappointed. I finished because I'd come to the end of my story. Lizzy murmured in my ear every day, and I furiously scribbled down her story. But she was done. I was done. We were both spent.
It is on the low side for a young adult novel count but I am fine with that. I will not need to cut my darlings but embellish them, enhance them, colour around their outlines until their scenes glow. I have left many a […] in the story, indicating that I need to go back and fill in detail, to paint with richer tones than I was able as I chased the plot. For that is what I did in November. I ran, I fumbled, I grabbed it in my hands and slam dunked it. The story.
I chose to write this young adult story, not only because it was unencumbered by research, but because Lizzy would not let me be. She wanted to be heard. I listened. I cried. I wrote her from the heart.This month will be spent on revision—sorting the wheat from the chaff and seeing just how close I am to actually having a finished novel. That's the practical side of this thing we call writing. But, I know what really happened November 2015. The voice that whispered is a compilation of too many I heard in my years of education and, for once, I had the power to make a difference.