I was hesitant about participating at all this year. I'm teaching seven classes. I haven't had time to review all those writing resource books I bought--and I don't attempt anything without thoroughly preparing and studying up on it first. I thought I could perhaps handle being a "NaNo Rebel," eking out a work of creative nonfiction, or even noncreative nonfiction, but there was no way I could write a real bona fide novel. Not in a year, and certainly not in a month.
Now I've been roped into a co-Municipal Liaison position for our NaNoWriMo region, which means I'll be coordinating write-ins and encouraging other Syracuse-area participants to push on to the finish--and which also means I'm morally obligated to unfurl my fingers from the mesh of that big ol' safety net I've been clinging to and free-fall into the land of fiction. I haven't visited that place since I was about 10 years old and it's a lot scarier today.
"Quince!" The urgency of my situation seemed a perfectly reasonable excuse to disturb him from his afternoon siesta. "What am I going to write about?!"
"How the f**k should I know?" he replied, barely opening an eye.
That wasn't the response I was hoping for.
"I'm a cat. I'm not a psychic."
"I guess I'd thought you might have some ideas for me."
"You want an idea? Don't look for an idea." He chuckled dryly. "Now that's an idea."
"Huh?" I missed the joke.
"All I'm saying is that writing--and anything else that comes from your heart--happens. You're not supposed to do any of it."
"Well, I kind of have to do something. 50,000 words won't just magically appear on that screen."
"But you still thought I was going to do something that would make it appear for you? Heh heh. You sure don't have the lack of imagination you're so afraid you do." He raised the pitch of his voice. "'I'm Quincy. Magic Writer Cat.'"
"Very funny," I said with a sulk. It's insulting enough to be mocked by other humans, let alone felines.
"Listen, you want my advice? Don't worry about it. Like everything else, if you just let it happen, it will."
"Okay. But what if it doesn't?"
"I said don't worry about it," he reminded me.
"I'll try, buddy," I told him. "I'll try."
You see, ever since I was a little girl, I've dreamed of writing books, but with after every milestone I came to along that path, I simply set more milestones. I wasn't ready to "write" after excelling in my high school English classes because I needed a college degree. I wasn't ready after completing all those courses to fulfill a second major in English because I needed an advanced degree. I wasn't ready after finishing my master's degree because my degree was in the wrong field. I wasn't ready after receiving much encouragement about this blog because I didn't update it enough. I wasn't ready after being entrusted to teach college courses nor solicited as a freelance writer and editor because none of this involved creative writing. And I wasn't ready to follow through on NaNoWriMo because I'd never written a 50,000-word novel because I've never let myself try.
For those who've stumbled upon this page from my NaNoWriMo profile, you've busted me. Although I'm a competent academic and technical writer who's dabbled in poetry and creative nonfiction, I'm a noveling novice.
If you're looking for solid fiction-writing advice from your MLs, go to Geoff. He's dedicated to regular practice and is chock full of enthusiasm. But if you're looking for someone who empathizes with your paralyzing fears and will share with you every ounce of inspiration she can muster to help you to step out of your own way, I'm totally your woman.
I wonder if Quincy's onto something with that "Magic Writer Cat" bit. :)
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