The End of NaNoWriMo!

Last night I won this year's National Novel Writing Competition (#NaNoWriMo), and I haven't even finished writing my novel. I did, however, attain the 50,000 word threshold of greatness. Of course, I knew I would achieve that mark. I don't enter competitions unless I intend to win. However, the competition is really (at least in my case) a contest against myself, and against the day job and all manner of vagaries that might interfere with my writing. Yet, once again, I have succeeded! (More on this year's entry below.)

Last year (2017), I was unable to participate. I was simply written out. (Read more about that situation here.) The year before (2016), I did participate and wrote what became my epic fantasy novel. Despite writing only about 55,000 words during the month of November, I eventually finished the novel at 233,000 words months later - which is about average for an epic fantasy, leaning heavily on the word 'epic'. I skipped 2015 but did give it my first try in 2014, producing most but not all of sci-fi story about a captured alien trying to get home.

My initial reluctance at trying to do such an intensive writing effort - not that I don't want to! - was that it falls in November, one of the busier months for those of us in academia. However, with a story idea, some notes, a plan or outline, it is possible to cobble out a rough draft in 30 days. That's about 1,700 words per day. Or, as my college freshmen like to say: "Well, you like to write, so it's okay for you." Indeed, I do like to write; it is the one activity that brings me peace and enjoyment.

So this year I thought to write an autobiography. Yes, many times I've borrowed from my own life for fiction I've written. This time, I really wanted to bring together the many stories and anecdotes from my life, especially my childhood. I'm not so vain that I expect to find my life of interest to others; however, that does not stop me from writing for myself. That still counts in the NaNo world. So, yes, I wrote, or started writing, my autobiography, beginning with the moment of birth told from the nameless baby's perspective.

As I snatched a few minutes here and there to write more, I tended to jump around in the timeline. I wrote about my family's travels while I was a toddler, with a tongue in cheek attitude. I wrote about elementary school and the quirky kids I met there. I jumped ahead and told the story of, for example, how I met Carla, the funeral director's daughter, when I moved across town to a new school for 7th grade. I explained the family history according to both grandmothers. I named names, including actual relations (they'll never read this!). I was writing for me, for my entertainment. It has been self-satisfying and I make no apology for that. I'll continue through my college adventures and my various experiences living overseas (I kept journals). I may depict events slightly better than they actually were because who wants to read the complete unvarnished truth? (Oh, and I quickly made a cheap-looking book cover.)

You see, at the same time, during the same month, aside from the day job, I was finishing the final revision of Book 3 of my vampire trilogy. Also during the month, aside from this autobiography, I worked on a short story I owe for an anthology. Then, as I approached the 50,000 word goal line, I got drawn away to start a revision of an early novel of mine involving a man-eating tiger which I hope to publish in the near future. I also graded stacks of essays, literary analyses, and research papers. 

Because the words never stop coming. And I think, if they ever did stop, I would also stop. And that is not a possibility I wish to consider.

Next time: The Stefan Szekely Trilogy comes to a close with mayhem and melancholy!


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