So, the shiny, funny Tracey Neithercott posted this comment on my What’s Up Wednesday post yesterday:
Rebecca, here is how you finish:
1. Put on real-people clothes.
2. Leave the house.
3. Head to grocery store and/or back-alley sugar dealer.
4. Buy caramels.
5. Go home.
And it gave me an idea. Here, for you now — and because I’m avoiding my own NaNo project at the moment, hoping it will stop trying to eat my brain if I leave it alone for a minute— is what the end of the second week of NaNoWriMo looks like for some (me):
1. Wake up in the morning after tossing and turning most of the night because you should have written 4,237 words yesterday and you didn’t and you know you should have and so you couldn’t possibly let yourself feel OK about getting the sleep you need to actually write 4,237 words in a day since you didn’t. (Especially when you watched New Girl instead and drank too much non-celebratory champagne before bed. NOTE: In reality, this is probably why you couldn’t sleep.)
2. Make coffee. Check on young son, who is just waking up and looks cozy and miraculous. Lay down with him, thinking he’ll want to cuddle. He really just wants you to fix his Spiderman toy, make him breakfast, sing the ABC’s and explain why the seasons change. Glare at slow brewing coffee.
3. Once son is at school, have more coffee. Listen to inspirational music or watch LIVE! with Kelly and Michael, contemplating your life choices. You could have been a talk show host. You are a great talker. Why did you choose writing? Why do you torture yourself this way? Kelly Rippa probably never tried to write a novel in a month. Kelly Rippa has abs of steel and hair of silk. Make mental note to stop using food as a writing reward.
4. Drink more coffee, this time put in a shot of Bailey’s because it seems necessary and fitting.
5. Write panicky, manic email to CP about all the things in your WiP that scare you. Decide that you will never write another novel if you think it will have to be a series again, especially not another fantasy novel with tons of world building, a detailed plot, and murder. Realize after writing that sentence that sounds very boring indeed and that you want to write big, crazy novels that scare you.
6. Drink more coffee, with more Bailey’s, and then put on a coat and take a walk. (NOTE: You still haven’t written any words, but if you need to you can stay up all night. You can’t rush the muse.)
7. Read email response from CP who won’t let you jump off the ledge, who will hold your hand and guide you back, and who does know exactly what you are up against. She’s feeling the same thing. Every writer trying their hand at NaNo knows how you feel. You take to Twitter, where this is confirmed and together you all decide you will not be beaten, but prevail.
8. Play Eye of the Tiger or We are the Champions on Spotify at an earsplitting volume. Eat a caramel and drink some more coffee because who were you kidding that you weren’t going to use food as a reward?
9. Get down to work.
10. Look at clock — after getting less than 1000 words but being majorly in the groove — realize it’s time to get your son from school. The evening-time dance begins. The muse heads off to the bar, and you decide “Screw her, I’ll be back tonight, and we can share a pot of coffee while she sobers up to inspire again.”
11. Write forward, even when that means you don’t have a clue what the hieroglyphic symbols on your screen say, but the word count rises as does your formerly rock bottom self-esteem.
You have this. I have this. And even when you don’t and I don’t, somewhere out there is someone just like you who is on their seventh hour of staring at their computer screen hopelessly waiting for the muse to get back from her drinking binge.
Write anyway. Write often. Just keep writing.
For inspiration and giggles: