Saturday, 1 July 2017

Camp NaNoWriMo Day 1: A bit of a wobble, but a successful start

I didn't start Camp NaNoWriMo at midnight.

This is not in itself odd or noteworthy. Midnight starts are fun and all, but they're not exactly mandatory. In fact, the only reason I'm mentioning it is that I was awake at midnight and I wasn't writing. Not just in a 'I was doing something else' way, either. I was the 'alone at the desk having a bit of a wobble' kind of 'not writing'. It went like this:

Friday June 30, 11:20pm

I can't start from scratch because I don't have time to plan it out. I can't keep going with... well, anything... because I'm so fucking lost with it all that I wouldn't know where to start. So, the only thing left to do is write about the things I can't do. Somehow that tends to mean the metafictional adventures of Siana and Scott, which as the heading implies seemed like a good idea for about two minutes. I could go on some kind of journey of self-discovery or something - hook up with my old imaginary friends and talk about the utter mess I'm making of my writing career, and maybe regather my strength and build up writing muscle for working on new, serious things.

Then a couple of minutes later I was like "How is that going to help? I should just put on my big girl pants and attack a proper project. Metafiction is just a complete waste of time and effort!"

And... the thing is, I just don't know. Would it help? Ideally, it would be a quiet way to get into my own head - really dig into the things I want to do and the reasons why they're not happening. On the other hand... wait, is there another hand? If it just ends up random hijinks with characters, at least I'm writing something.

The decision basically comes down to 'panicflailrunaroundtheroomwavingmyarmsandnotwriting' or 'try the metafic thing'. I can set constraints, like that maybe I'll only try it for the first week, or like I'll stick to the 500 word thing as a target rather than a minimum, but really...

Saturday July 1, midnight

I can't do this. I'm too scared. Too broken. I. Cannot. Do. This.

So scared. So... I don't know how to explain it. I'm just sitting here trying to put anything at all on the page because I'm so scared there's nothing real in here. I feel defeated. The WIP list will never be conquered, the assessments will never be done, nothing will ever just turn out fine. I want to burn, but I just sit here cold and useless, and I don't know what to do about it.

Two things, Siana: first, switch off the computer. Second, get off the uncomfortable chair and find a spot where your body doesn't hurt so much.

Saturday July 1, 12:30am (transcribed from notebook)

Think about the actual, real, significant problems. Not the ones I'm absorbing and labelling myself with from the web or books. Just the real things that are stopping me.

So, why not the metafic? Not just 'it's not serious or productive'. The real reason.

Because my heart is elsewhere.

Yeah? Where?

In the Nightmare Box with my little necromancer.

So, why not work on that?

I don't know what happens next... and that's silly, because what's this 'next'? If I don't have an immediate idea for what happens next in the riverside training, what about all the other bits that belong in there? Crows and phones, dust and bones, ice and stones...

The thing is, I know that pattern of thought, and once I started writing it down I recognised the pattern and was able to realise that I needed to get myself comfortable and ask that one important question: where is my heart right now?

(Side note: as long as the answer is 'somewhere inside that lump of pain I call an upper back and ribcage', it's a fair bet that no work is going to get done. Ditto if a similar question about my writerly brain gets 'behind eyes that can't focus on something backlit'.)

So, today I cleaned probably something like 40 years of sticky stuff out of my typewriter, tidied my office, and didn't even start the computer until about 11:30pm when I was ready to update my wordcount. Using my now ridiculously soft-touch typewriter, I wrote 1032 words of the story I've been working on since the start of April, which I may or may not be lost in. If I just keep writing, though, I'll probably find my way out.

Also, I got this in my email after updating my wordcount!

Final thought: I don't have to know the whole story right now. It's enough to just keep following my heart.

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