You’d think, that after my fifth go around with the whole, “write a novel in a month” thing, I’d be a pro. Laughing at the rest of my friends from my cloud of writing glory, as I bested my word-count goal and created the greatest manuscript I’d ever seen.
It started out great. Within four days, I had written ten thousand words. Then, I got a little sluggish. I had a lot of characters, none of whom I could get rid of. I had a bunch of stuff to juggle within the story and just in life in general.
My schedule was so light with schoolwork, I actually worked two weekends at camp, giving up prime writing hours to take pictures of children and run chapel sessions.
About day fifteen, I was really struggling. The words weren’t flowing. The ideas were taking too long to set up. I had so many goals inside my brain, so many things I wanted to communicate, and they wouldn’t come out.
Even worse, this particular story focuses on the majority of my characters growing up and tackling harder issues. It’s like watching your children go off on their own: these were my children, and my heart ached for them.
So I pushed. The lessons, they were too important to give up on. I had to try to write this, this story, even if it hurt.
I made it. November 25th, I met my word-count goal.
Don’t get me wrong, this story needs a lot of editing. A lot. But I made it. I honestly don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t made it. Maybe scratched out the idea of the story. Burned the file. I certainly don’t think I would have been motivated to keep on going, to finish, and to fix.
But I did it. By the grace of God, I did it. And even though this particular year posed a lot of NaNoing struggles for me, it was the first time I cooperated and wrote with Him. It’s a lot of fun: He’s the perfect author, after all.