I’m participating in camp NaNoWriMo this April. Here’s a link to my progress. I’m just trying to finish the last 20-30k words of the book now. Optimistically, I think it can be done in 20k. The end is nigh folks! And it’s a horror that rattles my innards in the most thrilling and terrifying way. I’m not talking about my ending (or am I?), but rather the ramifications of “finishing” this book. Because typing that final word on the last page is just the beginning.
The first draft is simply vomiting your story to the page in all of its ugly glory. Those sickly greens and putrid yellows somehow become something meaningful, something deeply connected to your most personal thoughts and fears. All of the parts are there, they’ve always been there. Now to wipe away the slime and polish them.
If you knew me, you would know I’m a creative coward so frightened by failure and success that I’ve walked away from opportunities that someone else would have leaped upon without hesitation. Why? I don’t know. I fear success just as much as failure, its a mental dichotomy that sometimes keeps me awake in the grey hours.
But I’m doing this. There is no shore, only foam wreathed around my knees and a depth I’m beginning to understand.
To Adorn the Stars 