As I’m sure I’ve said a few times before, I have been writing a poem every day over on Medium, trying to break into that platform’s incredible cadre of poets, adding things to publications when I can, thinking about starting one myself – but for some reason I don’t feel like that is the place to come and ramble so much as I feel this is, the home on WordPress, the place that I’ve been coming to for years and opening up a blank box to spill words on pages and hope, hope, hope someone will read them.
Maybe I should have been better at doing this from the beginning – documenting my writing process, being open and honest about how hard it is sometimes, how more often than not the words don’t come easy.
They are choked out, vomited up from my fingers into paragraphs that may or may not be worth keeping. It’s always hard for me to tell.
But this month, while everyone else is focusing on their Poem a Day for April or the A-Z post challenge that I’ve tried and failed at finishing too many times to count, I’ve been writing the first draft of a new book.
It’s Camp NaNoWriMo time again, and this time I dove into it with some friends, and every Sunday now I come to this beautiful bookstore and write with them for most hours of the afternoon and evening.
I’m really plowing through it this time.
Since the end of week one, I have been on target or above my target every day, and I am not planning on letting up any time soon.
That’s because I plan to keep writing, no matter what, until it’s finished.
I’m tired of leaving half-finished manuscripts dead on my hard drive.
I’m tired of telling myself that none of them are good enough to go for a second draft.
I am determined now, no matter what, to figure out how to make this novel work.
I’m not sure how I’m going to accomplish this.
I don’t have an outline – on purpose, of course – but I also don’t even have a general idea of where I want the story to end up. It’s an open-ended story of a small town with a nasty problem of some alien abductions going on.
There’s a lot to work with – maybe too much.
So, I’ll come here to ramble, because even though I’ve finished my words for the day, my fingers still feel the need to keep on typing, as they have done lately, which I love more than I can possibly say.