Turning it off

I went in today for my personal make-up session for Nanowrimo, and discovered that I am not the only failure in our group. In fact, no one hit the 50,000-word mark. This is disappointing on a number of levels, but mostly because I looked forward to reading some of these slap-dash epistles.

Bill, the guy whose great-grandfather was involved in that Civil War lawsuit, never came back after the first session. I won't know if the woman working through a suicide actually worked through it, or whether the homeless guy made progress with his story.

We talked about the future today. There will likely be a follow-up to our feeble attempts at novel-writing in the spring. This is good because it sets another deadline for me.

This type of writing requires a setting aside of scholarship. It requires pretending that you don't care what the world, or even your mother, thinks. It requires turning off your mind to the desire to fact-check, to edit, to research, or to do just about anything but write.

Having been through the editing process many, many times, the prospect frightens me. It's hard enough to edit a GOOD piece, much less formless and pointless drivel.

But in another way, it makes eminent sense. Sometimes you just have to plow ahead, keep the goal in mind but don't worry about the path you take.

And if this is truly an exercise of your mind, it's good to let it take off in whatever direction it will. And there's solitary solace in turning it off.

P.S. I did manage to eek out the URL for Keaton's finished book:
mylifeasahuman.jimdo.com

We should check it out and remember that it's no longer a draft.