It’s December and I am engaging in my usual pastimes of shopping more than is healthy for my bank account, and not writing Christmas cards. But the holidays have more than their usual share of blahs for me, and I think it is because I actually finished NaNoWriMo with 50k words.
In other words, I wrote a freaking book! Great!
I think it’s great…. Scotty, get me out of here!
I am faced with the daunting task of revising, re-structuring, and otherwise re-doing 50,300 words of fiction. I know more or less what is supposed to happen; I did it for my student script a few years ago. I know all about pacing, conflict, et freaking cetera. But I only did this polishing process for a mere 8,000 words (I went back and checked). 50k (doomed, I fear, to balloon horribly) is several times more complex. And I am without the friendly boot in the rear of a semester grade requirement or a NaNoWriMo word goal.
Further, it was easy to tell when I had finished the script: Is is time to turn the thing in yet? If so, it’s done; if not, do some more polishing. I will probably fool around with the silly novel until it’s November again, if not longer.
Yes, you’re right. I am feeling sorry for myself. Absurd, isn’t it? Fear not, I will take the right action, which is to get my butt to one of the year-round local NaNo groups. There’s one tomorrow night. And I will just pick a freaking deadline — probably to meet a coupon expiration date for one of the self-publishing discount packages that the NaNo sponsors offer. Wish me luck.