The keyword for today is "doubt." So many things are in flux. The play, my writing, even my financial security is a bit up in the air at the moment.
I went with it for a while. Sometimes important things become clear in moments like these, when all the surfaces in my life seem to be made of sand.
And a tiny revelation did come, concerning my NaNo project. I was describing the book to a friend the other night, and then started to explain the Baranatalo book, from which some of you have read excerpts here on the site. Even I could feel how passionate I became when discussing this project instead of the one I'd set aside for NaNo. How that same passion was missing when I was describing the outline of the newer project.
"Why aren't you writing that book?" My friend asked.
I explained that the rules of NaNo do not allow for works already started, and since I have 25,000 words already on paper, blah blah blah. I don't think I sounded very convincing. Even to myself.
The NaNo project is theoretically a fun book. I think I would enjoy writing it and that people might enjoy reading it, but what I realized today is that I do not need to write it. The other book—the strange man who spends page after page alone in his apartment—this is the story I have been coming back to ever since I was nineteen.
This is the one that will not leave until I get it onto paper.
So I'm sort of bowing out of NaNoWriMo, although I'm still setting myself a 50,000 word-count goal for the month. That should be plenty to finish the first draft of the piece, and let me move on to the editing, reshaping and polishing that I know it will need. I think I'll keep updating the word count on the NaNo site, just to get the camaraderie and competition aspects that NaNo provides, but I will stop short of declaring myself a "winner" this time around, even should I meet the goal, since I don't want to cheat.
It feels like the right call. It feels good to have made a decision.
After resolving the writing issue, I decided to ignore the other mysteries I currently face and do something productive instead. So I made a fake dust-jacket for a book of poetry, to be used as a prop in the play.
Something ironic about designing the cover for a book which does not exist when I should have been creating an actual book instead, but it was cathartic to throw myself in, and just build something.
Here's what it looks like, before we beat it up tomorrow to make it look old and forgotten:
Tomorrow, the Moon answers more of your questions! Don't miss it! And don't forget to submit queries of your own to the email at left.