The last three weeks between work and NANO, I’ve been a writing dervish and I am dizzy with exhaustion. Today, I wrote a book review and edited four articles and it just about killed me. But I managed to do it all, and now what am I doing? Writing.
Let’s face it, I can’t get away from it. Writing has become a way of life for me. It earns my keep, it keeps my mind focused, it drives me crazy, it makes me insecure, I love it one minute and hate it the next. It’s one of the hardest jobs I’ve ever had, one of the worst paying, but also one of the most comfortable (hey, I can stay in my pjs and in bed if I want to). Every time I write I see some sort of improvement, but I also have greater expectations. If I don’t write I feel guilty, and when I write I always want to be brilliant (hah!) I am my own worst critic, but I’m also my staunchest supporter.
But this writing dervish needs a break, and once NANO is over, I will breath one huge sigh of relief that it’s finito. And now I am making a promise to myself: I will never participate in this madness again. It’s just too much. Yes, I can write 50,000 words in a month; yes, I know all the pitfalls of racing to complete a novel in thirty days; yes, I know there is the danger that I’ve managed to burn myself out; and yes, I know that even though NANO is over, I can’t quit writing.
So what’s next? More of the same, but without the insanity.