Nanowrimo Day 22

I just realized that I havn't updated on Nanowrimo since day 4. I guess it makes sense though, as I have been so busy writing my novel that writing in my blog just doesn't seem nearly as important. Especially since I'm not sure anyone reads or cares, I mostly write for me on here.

Nanowrimo is going well. With the 1667 words a day I am supposed to write, my word count should be at 36,674. I havn't written anything today, so I really should be at 21 days worth, which is 35,007. My Novel, which has yet to present a name for itself, stands at 40,200 words.

This nameless monstrosity stands as a testament to the sheer perserverance of man. I never thought I could do it, week two made me think I would quit, but as I enter the last week of this insane challenge, I see that the end is not only in sight, but that I believe I will make it.

Only 9,800 words separate me from greatness. I've always wanted to write a novel, and now that I'm almost there, can almost call myself a novelist, it seems anticlimactic. Did I change the world? Did I create the great American novel? Nope.

It did change me though. Maybe my novel created the great American David. Maybe it is just the peice of work that creates the path for all other peices of work I might create. I don't know.

What began as a fear of not being able to finish, then evolved into a fear of reaching 50k words but not being done with the story, has now mutated into a fear of this novel being the only story I have in me to tell. I believe all of these fears stem from some nameless primevil entity that dwells in the basement of my brain. That entity knows only shadow and only ventures out seldomly. I would have rooted it out long ago, but it sometimes is the only part of my brain that functions when all the other parts are frozen. Its the one that knows how to survive and does what must be done. I think the fear part of it really is just it's way of trying to protect me. From myself, and from failure.

I tell you this though, protecting yourself from failure is doing yourself a disservice. Failure is a great teacher. It's lessons are branded on my brain in a way no other lessons could be. I say be couragous, fail brilliantly, and then get up again armed with new experience. The next time, success will be that much easier.