Ready, Set, Give Up

It's day one of that weird, writer's holiday season: National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo for short.

I'm already over it.

Like way, way the fuck over it.

I should go sit in a corner until my mood improves. Because that? That sounds delightful. Writing 50,000 words this month in what is arguably the weirdest year in modern memory makes me want to give someone the finger.

So I bitch. And moan. Get it out of my system. Chances are that's probably my process for this anyway. Vent a disproportional ire about an event I willingly signed up for (for free) and gives me a deadline and a reason to get off my ass and make something happen.

I'd rather be playing Civ V. Or, you know, sitting in that corner alone until I'm in a better mood.

My phone was 1 non-stop notification all day as every single person I know who is participating updated every social media site available. They're excited. I get it. Introverts unite from the safety of your respective home office. Community AND isolation. Honestly, I get it. I do. I'm just not there.

I'm not feeling it this year. I'm hoping the annoyance and resentment of this high holy of writing months will pass. I'm hoping to get caught up in storytelling and forget 2016, just for a little while.

So to other NaNo'ers, don't take my shitty attitude personally. Good luck and happy (or whatever floats your boat) writing.