I am going into the deep end of the writing journey on November 1. This year, I will commit to a soulful call, a yearn that has tugged at my heart for a few years now. I am going to join the thousands of NaNoWriMos in Atlanta to pen that novel. What genre? What characters? What inspiration? I admit that I have unfinished novels scattered like the leaves on my yard, but I want a fresh voice, a fresh idea, and a fresh challenge.
I am going to give in to that “Butt in the chair/seat” (B.I.T.C. or B.I.T.S.) philosophy, right-wing advocates, for the first time in my life. I guess you could call me a left-winger. A believer in when the juice flows, I have always written for creativity. When the honey well drips with more than enough of that nectar, I write joyfully, plentifully, creatively. (Don’t tell me not to use adverbs. I am a left-winging writer.) I have never wanted for words or inspiration. This NaNoWriMo is different!
Ha, ha! Let’s see how much honey will remain in that well when I keep going to fetch from it daily. Scary thoughts are made of these! Thirty days of writing continuously, pounding the keys, forcing them to obey me. To obey or not to obey, that is the question I will answer in 30 days. Will the honey well run dry after I milk it day in, day out? I fret!