miles of words

We spent the Thanksgiving holiday at my parents house, wrapped up in love and food and warmth. The days were cold, and I personally didn't step outside of their house for three days. We arrived in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, having traveled in the dark through sleet and rain to beat the bulk of the storm that made it's way to the east coast, and I couldn't bring myself to go anywhere until Saturday. And that was to the grocery store and for a brisk walk down the street. The kids were entertaining, my mom in her element of making a big turkey dinner for all of us. It was the first Thanksgiving we'd spent with them since Lucas and I were married, due to locations and air plane tickets and travel time... but now that they're within driving distance, it's possible. And it was lovely.

 During our time there, I completed NaNoWriMo. I'm processing. I'm giving myself some distance from my novel for the time being. I haven't even printed it out - but I will. And then the work will begin. Yesterday I had the thought that I wanted to rewrite the whole damn thing {which I might...} and in a brief moment of panic I thought maybe the months worth of work was for nothing. But. But it wasn't. November brought the writer back out in me. I enjoyed it so much, the writing. Making my daily word counts. And the story isn't terrible, the story can be worked into it's full potential. It just might need a whole other direction to work. Or maybe just depth. Or a change in tense. I'm not sure. Regardless, I'm farther along at this point than I was a month and a half ago, with just a few fleeting idea and not writing at all.

 I'm astonished that I finished the first shitty draft of my novel. In a month. I'm honest with myself, and know that much of what I wrote is going to get cut or transformed, but still, it's a draft. It's there. There are over 50 thousand words that I wrote. Miles of words. And I hope that that alone inspires someone who has been thinking about taking the NaNoWriMo plunge - or just the writing plunge in general. If I could do it, while dealing with Lyme, and birthdays, and homeschooling two kids, keeping up the house and cooking, and holidays and traveling, anyone who really wants to write can. And should.

 It's a little bittersweet, finishing something like NaNoWriMo. In one way it's the end, but in another it's truly just the beginning, which is a little intimidating and a little scary, but very exciting. There's probably something very symbolic about finishing that first draft at my parents house. But at this point my words are still tired and stretched thin, they are recovering from a marathon of sorts....

So for now, I'm going to veg out, read a few novels on my to read shelf, wait a week or so to get back to my novel, and get my Christmas spirit on for the month of December.

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