Here I sit. One hour until National Novel Writing Month officially begins. My sixth attempt; I am historically successfully.
And I am terrified.
All I have been able to say about this for the past two days is “I’m not ready”. And I haven’t been able to say it to anyone. So I turn to you, dear reader, in the absence of anyone who cares to understand my severe apprehension.
I have the plot ready, so that isn’t my problem. In fact, I’m rather excited for this story. In my last book, my characters experienced the tough parts of growing up. Now, they’re experiencing some of the more exciting elements. I have a more simplified plot, along with starting and ending places.
I think my characters are ready. I know what has happened to everyone in the last year. Where they have stumbled and struggled; where they have grown. I’m excited for them, yet also heartbroken. I’ve designed this plot to be the end of this “Toner World” I created. The end of my childhood stories.
Is that what’s bugging me? It’s my senior year. I have so much on my plate, and everything is about to change. Oh, for crying out loud, everything is changing. Everything is already changed. I don’t have any best friends; I have responsibilities in every part of my life; I’m growing up.
I want to be excited to jump back into this world. And as I begin to talk about it, I’m getting excited.
Is that my problem? I don’t have anyone to talk to? And it’s not that I don’t have anyone to talk to—it’s that the people I talk to don’t care about my writing. For goodness sake, today I tried to bring up my writing to my one friend, and they said “dun dun dun”. That isn’t conversation. That’s a sound effect. I can contribute those on my own.
Am I so sick of not having anyone care? Is it manifesting in this upset bubble of “not ready”?
Actually, someone does care. I received the sweetest, most encouraging card the other day. They care.
Well, there’s one.
I guess I’m just in an odd place right now. For example, I’ve been growing out my hair since I was ten years old. But I’m in such a need for a change, I have an appointment in a few days to chop it off.
Do I need change? I know I’m sick of maintaining my long hair. I’m sick of a lot of things.
I guess what’s important is, I’m excited to wake up tomorrow and reenter the world of my characters. For the last time. The last November.
At least they care what happens to them.
And I love them for it.