The first time I participated was November 2013. Yeah, not much to say about that. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t lose or anything that I didn’t join this year out of spite. I did win, hell, I went over the limit a bit. If I’m not mistaken, I got to 60-70k before the end of the month.
How did I get to that? Simple.
You type like a madman.
But this post isn’t really about motivating others or tips on how to succeed (you just got one, that counts). It’s about what happened to me afterwards.
Yes it felt great to cross the finish line days before the due date. I was thrilled, “Look at me guys, I won!” But afterwards, I just stopped, confused, a deer in the headlights.
It’s not about how I didn’t understand how to edit or how to get it published; there are tons of guides written about exactly that. It was more of steam. I ran out of steam.
When NaNoWriMo ended, I was far from even finishing the storyline of the novel. Maybe that’s why, after a gruelling one month, I just stared at the words with really no affection.
You know when you see your writing, you imagine finishing and then all the fame you’re going to get once you publish that book. People are going to look at you in awe and say, “Wow, you’re a published author!” Then you’ll travel to hold book signings and maybe move into a castle like J.K. Rowling.
When I stared at my manuscript, I didn’t feel any of that. There was no love, no thrill, none of that which I felt when I first started. I can’t rekindle that love, I couldn’t force myself to continue writing any longer. So I stopped. 60,000 words gone down the drain.
I’m not saying that NaNoWriMo is bad, good for you if you’re taking on the challenge.
I’m saying that maybe, I’m not cut out to be an author.