This is me. Writing a novel. (Well, brainstorming for a novel.) You heard me. Somehow today “I’m going to look at cute pictures of cats on the internet” turned into “I’m going to write a novel in June even though I’m starting four days late.” And honestly, I’m a little terrified.
If my two years of experience with National Novel Writing Month have taught me anything, however, it is that I can do this and I shouldn’t be afraid of it. Some of my favorite words of encouragement from NaNoWriMo have been:
“The first step in writing a good book: giving yourself permission to write a bad book.”
“Novels are written by everyday people who give themselves permission to write novels.”
“You have a book in you that only you can write. Your story matters. Your voice matters. The world will be richer for you seeing this crazy, creative escapade through to 50,000 words.”
Although I’m afraid that I will fail and afraid that I will write another piece of crap manuscript, or at least 50,000 words of one; although all I know right now is that I have three college roommates who hate each other and accidentally kill someone; although I work and have friends and have things going on this month and am starting so late that by tonight I am supposed to have 6668 words written, I am doing this anyway.
Cheer me on a little? I’m gonna need it.