The Literary Phoenix

Funny, the damage a silly little book can do. Especially in the hands of a silly little girl.

I love NaNoWriMo.

I love the deadline, and the knowledge of winning.  I always win, you see.  But I simply can’t do it anymore.  Ah, NaNo.  We had five glorious years together and produced eight delightful “books”.

But yet, that’s the problem. “Books” not books.  Because what I write for NaNoWriMo comes from the sputtering of “two thousand words, two thousand words”.  It’s not quality.  Quite often, it’s rambling.  It’s the very worst of “I don’t know where I’m going with this, but hey look, words!!!“.

NaNoWriMo has its perks.  It forced me to put down stories that had been bouncing around in my head for ages.  Absolutely Mad, for one.  My Wonderland tale had been in my head for several years, but never made it to paper.  Oh, I have others still trapped in there: a tales about Greek gods sentenced to a mortal life, an Egyptian demi-goddess trying to prevent a genocide.  An apocalyptic tale about a girl who could astral project.  A story of two time travelers that is so insanely outlined it’s intimidating.  Not to mention: three more books for Sparky Jones, at least another for Ariella Masterson, and Princess Jessica and her crew are nowhere near done.  Oh!  And there’s a sequel for Lucy Brown shoved up there as well.

None of this means anything to anyone but me.  Why?  Because rewrites.

I wouldn’t dream of sending any of my stories to an agent, or even self-publishing them, because of horrendous typos, gigantic plot holes, and inconsistencies galore.  I need to delve back into each and every one of the stories and do it again, but better.  I’ve done this a couple times – with Fate and Strange – and all I’ve learned is, “it’s  better, but not good enough.”  Fate is too big for its britches and Strange has too many inconsistencies and I’ve been told that frankly, Ariella isn’t particularly likable.  So there’s work to be done still.

How can I start a new project when my others lay abandoned?

So thanks for the memories, NaNoWriMo, but for the time being, I’m afraid I must wash my hands of you.

(Good luck to all you NaNo-ers out there!  Knock ’em dead!)

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