NaNoWriMo prep is in the air, and the closer we get to November the less I know what to do. On one hand, I love the thought of the challenge. Writing 50,000 words in one month; starting a new novel and literally writing the whole thing in thirty days. Ooh, I get excited thinking about it.
On the other hand, I’ve put in so much work into my current WIP (work in progress), and the thought of starting something else feels ridiculously hard and counter-productive. Why struggle with a second novel when my first one has only been read by me?
I know that November is a while away, but the year is flying past and I don’t want to get caught off-guard. October is known as ‘Preptober’ for NaNoWriMo, and if I am participating I’d want a fairly solid idea by then so I can begin outlining.
In terms of my current WIP, I am so close to finishing the second draft. Last week I finished all the rewriting; no chapters are half-written, no paragraphs are unfinished. All my words are on the page. That’s a bizarre thought, isn’t it? 70,000 words, my own words, are just sitting in a word document.
Now I’m in the process of going through several dot-points of editing. Such as, making sure ages and physical descriptions are consistent throughout the entire novel. It’s tedious, but not as horrendous as the editing I did in July Camp NaNoWriMo.
Every day for the past ten days I’ve worked on my novel. That’s right; this woman is no longer sidetracked by Sims because she’s got a plan. I’m settled in a routine that works for me and I’ve been more productive and energised because of it. I set aside time to write every day and actually follow through with it.
This routine of mine also includes exercising every day. That’s right – abs of steel over here. Abs. Of. Steel.
I’ve been going to bed before ten and waking up earlier and actually awake, with no need to hit the snooze button. I properly unwind every night (without screens) by reading a book, so I’m about a third of my way through Villette by Charlotte Bronte. So far I’m really enjoying it.
All in all, this new routine has been good for me. I spend my time more wisely and have begun enjoying the writing process again. The more I get done on my novel the more I want to keep going, and with the end in sight I’m more motivated than ever to just get it done. My vague goal earlier this year was to have my novel finished by the end of winter, and for the first time I think I can actually make it. Sure it’s only a second draft, but it feels so much more complete than the first draft did. Tighter, more coherent. Like maybe someone could read it and they’d understand what I’m trying to say.
Looking at the clock, I think it’s time for me to end this post and read some Villette. This makes me very happy indeed.