So, November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo. This is a time to buckle down and take yourself and your craft seriously and write until your fingers bleed and all that good stuff. If you’re a writer and you’re in a position to do that, then all the power to you. I wish you the very best.
I am not participating.
It’s not because I lack confidence or conviction, but purely because, well… I have a problem. I’m in a good place right now, where I’m actually able to close Microsoft Word and read scientific papers and make progress toward my thesis instead. I’m a firm believer that we make our own problems most of the time, and I’m not participating so I can avoid doing that.
So, instead of taking myself seriously as a writer, I’m going to use November to cover the tough issues that I think too many people overlook. You know, like why people write out every last detail of the taste of a wine and how it pairs with the filet, but won’t describe the consistency of a poo. Or how people describe the sensations of sex, but don’t go into detail about the gory details of bleeding from your fun box for a week.
Onward, for fun and education!