So, readers, I’ve just finished a full working day plus three and a half thousand words of fiction. Why would I do this to myself?
Why, NaNoWriMo, of course. Why else?
But here’s the kicker: I didn’t need to work so hard today. I doubled my workload because I didn’t work on the novel at all yesterday. I had two or three hours yesterday morning, but I didn’t use them to write. I had a spare half-hour during the day, but I didn’t use it to write. When it got to the evening I was exhausted, though not so exhausted that I couldn’t write.
But I didn’t. I didn’t write a word. It was a pincer attack of:
1. late-night energy drain, and:
2. the knowledge that I would have time to catch up today.
And catch up I did, but now I’m just as exhausted as I was yesterday. Seventeen-hundred words I can do in an hour, but three thousand, four hundred takes exponentially longer. The focus required to keep typing drains you.
Not only that, but you also have to know exactly where your story is going, because if you don’t know, you have to stop typing to think about it, and slowly the day gets darker and darker . . . I can plan a good part of the 1700 words in my head, but I don’t have enough detailed material in my brain cavity to work 3400 words without stopping for a break several times.
‘Don’t put off to tomorrow what you can do today.’ They used to tell me that when I was a child, and when I have children I’ll probably tell them the same thing.
Yet after decades on this planet, I can’t follow my own advice . . .