Have now passed the 40,000 word mark. Before you roll your eyes at me, I know it’s only half way through the month. I do want to have some time off this weekend, as well as finishing early. My health is never entirely predictable, and I always like things to be sent off and verified before something unexpected happens (computer blows up, internet connection mysteriously dies, etc.)
I confess: when I signed up for NaNoWriMo initially I had no clue as to what I might achieve. I decided that any words would be good, be it 10,000 or 30,000. (My record, by the way, lies around 20,000 words. I have never progressed further than that, until now.) But I will also confess: in the days approaching November something rather surprising happened.
I realised: I believed I was going to do it.
Now this may not seem particularly noteworthy to those who are naturally disciplined and have vast amounts of self confidence, but I am a doubter by nature.
But I realised, to my own perplexity, that I genuinely believed I would write a 50,000 word novel in a month. I tried to squeeze some doubt in, just because it felt odd otherwise, but the doubt wouldn’t take. It was deflected completely.
It was an astonishing sensation.
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and tried to identify a glimpse of anxiety, of unbelief, in my eyes.
That realisation felt extraordinary. The words, filling the pages, only vindicate that belief. They do not surprise me.
The only thing that gives me a tweak of dismay is the idea that I might not have signed up. That there was a good chance I would not decide to do this.
But I did. And was instantly completely calm about it..
This is quite weird, for me. Entirely out of character.