Yesterday was "39 For the First Time’s" second blogiversary. I started blogging for a few reasons—to force myself to write on a regular basis, to record the journey into my forties, and to tell stories of my kids. I didn’t plan on posting fiction. These days though, I post fiction more than anything else.
Last year I heard of this crazy project called NaNoWriMo. People all around the world pledge to write a complete novel in the month of November. I decided that setting an insane goal like that was just the kick in the pants my writing needed. By the last day of November I had finished a 51,000-word novel about a character named Michaela. It had a beginning, middle and end. It had likable characters and a complicated but happy ending. When finished, I had the most peculiar feeling. It was like the aceing the hardest exam of your life combined with watching your child walk into kindergarten for the first time. Pride. Elation. And a profound sense of “now what”?
I had it printed out and put it into a giant blue binder. But I decided to let it settle for a month so I could tackled it with a clearer mind. But while it rested, I started writing about a new character. Her name was Karen and she was infinitely more interesting than Michaela. Michaela’s story began to fade into the background.
If fiction writing was a dance, Michaela was the girl who brought me and I ought to be dancing with her. I learned so much about writing while I created Michaela. It’s time to give her story some attention. So I declare October NaNoEdMo—National Novel Editing Month. It’s time to take that big blue binder and turn it into a novel.
This week’s prompt from Write on Edge was to take break from fiction and spend some time exploring our writing ambitions and goals.