NaNoWriMo is Ruining My Life

Do you watch Broad City?

(FYI, if your answer to the above is “no,” please stop reading immediately and head over to Amazon for 4-ish hours of delight.)

In the second, spectacular episode, main ladies Abbi and Ilana discuss what breed of dog they would be; even before I watched, I had my answer. I would be a pit bull. From their big, dopey smiles to their full-body, I’m-so-eager-to-please wagging, there is nothing about a bully breed I don’t love. And while there are far too many misconceptions about these sweeties floating around, it’s true that they are famously tenacious.

If your pit bull decides she can fit in a shoe box? She is going to fit herself into that shoe box.

I’m a lot like a pit bull in this way. Stubborn. Determined. Thankfully, not a hockey mom.

And it’s ruining my life. Because, for the first time, I’ve tried to dedicate myself to NaNoWriMo. If you’re unfamiliar, those participating attempt to write a 50,000-word novel during the month of November. And while I’m usually great against a deadline, for some reason, NaNoWriMo is a non-starter for me.

Well.

That’s not exactly true.

I’ve started precisely 15 novels. And have probably written about 75,000 words thus far.

Unfortunately, they don’t all happen to be in the same damned book.

As someone who’s fairly hard on herself, this not doing great things for my psyche. To the point where I’m waking up in the middle of the night to jot down ideas in any one of the six or seven notebooks I’m currently keeping. For me? The best part of waking up is figuring out who is supposed to say what in which book (a.k.a, deciphering my own 3am chicken scratch.) On top of that, I’ve been skipping meals in order to write. Because I am bound and determined to finish one of these projects if it kills me. To bastardize Mark Zuckerberg, it doesn’t have to be pretty, it just has to be done.

Is this healthy behavior? Probably not.

But at least I don’t have writer’s block!

(There’s some of that doggy optimism.)

Love,
Your Gal

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