My hair is still in place and finger nails aren’t down to stubs yet, but I must admit my interest is waning. It’s always a challenge to aim for a goal that seems so utterly unattainable from the beginning. I’m not usually good at the daily expectation thing either. The National Novel Writing Month project is a good exercise in self-discipline, though. Most of the participants, I dare say, probably wouldn’t be currently writing without this yearly prompt and support of the other writers. One of them is me.
Misery loves company. Regional groups are an excellent motivator, and those writers seem like a very mixed bag in my geographic area – every age, level of experience and any other classification. The commiseration happens at least on a weekly basis, although I haven’t gone to any of the write-ins this year. Some of the more enthusiastic WriMos go for the comradeship while others sit at the periphery tapping violently away at their keyboards. The spiderwebs of power cords link the expanse between die-hard talkers and more diligent typers.
This year enlightened me to similar activities across the world. There’s NaBloPoMo for bloggers and digiwrimo, the no-holds barred electronic conglomeration. Who knew there was so much concerted creativity in the 11th month? While I’m still trying my best, the nagging worry in the back of my conscious mind is the 11th hour. I hope to not be bleary-eyed and scrambling to finish on the 30th. It would be nice to “win” this time around, but it’s only my second attempt at it, and there’s always next year, right? I’m down on my word count but not “down for the count.” We’ll see what happens by the 30th.