Happy belated Thanksgiving! How was yours? Mine was fun, I spent the day house hopping with one of my coworkers. She invited me over to her dad’s sister’s house, then over to her mom’s side of the family. All of them are really cool people. Lots of characters! I had some good corn pudding, I tried chitlins (it’s an acquired taste), and I even ate some bear meat…Well, that’s what everyone said it was.
My mother stayed at home and went for a walk with the cats. And, she watched the Lions pulverize the Eagles. I saw the end of it. It was beautiful.
Now, I hate to do this. I know I could save this for next week, but I don’t want to. I just feel like I need to say it now.
There is no possible way for me to win NaNoWriMo this year. It’s a sad fact that I have to face. I would have to write 9k words a day to win. That’s nine uninterrupted hours that I just won’t get. So I end the NaNo season with 22,017/50,000.
That’s a disgrace.
I was not into it this year. I’ve won five years in a row, but this year was not that fun. It was kind of stressful. I get up, go to work, come home, take a shower, sit down to write, and within a half an hour, I’m exhausted. On my days off, my mother required a lot more of my time than the previous years. So I was still working. And my story didn’t help either. I’m the type of writer who can’t write until I have all of the piece. And even if I do write without all of the pieces, I have to stop in the middle of writing to go research, and then when I research, my idea for the story doesn’t work, and then I have to stop and rethink my whole idea.
Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re saying. “Write now, research later.” Can’t. I have tried that! You cannot make me change. I just can’t do that.
Writing isn’t fun anymore. I remember when I couldn’t put down a pen or pencil because I had the best idea ever! Now I can’t even pick one up because I have no ideas at all.
Writing isn’t fun. I don’t want it to feel like a job anymore. I want it to be my job, but I want to have fun doing it. I go to work and I look around at the people I work with, and I look at the place I work and I want out. There’s nothing wrong with the people and the place. I just want better for myself. It’s not a horrible job, but it’s just not something I want forever. I don’t want to be stuck there anymore. But the only way I can get out is if I can quit, and I can’t quit. But I don’t want to be there anymore. I’m tired.
I just need to write a bestseller. But I can’t write if I’m depressed and mentally drained. I know writing is supposed to make me happy and get me out of this hole, but I can’t even write because I’m so deep.
Which is why I’m quitting writing…for a month. For the month of December, I will not write, nor will I think about writing.
Writing, right now, is like a math problem. If I sit there and stare at it, it’s doing me no good. I can’t come up with an answer. So, I’m walking away and I’m doing other things, things I’ve been telling myself I want to do. I have fabric for a blanket that I need to make, I have string for string art, I want to sow something. I want to take pictures of everything, I want to not feel like I’m held down by writing. So, I’m going on vacation from writing.
I’m a writer, gosh darn it. I will always come back to writing. I love to write. I may get mad at it sometimes, but it’s my love. I just need to step away from a minute and go do other things. Writing knows I can’t stay away for too long.