I was pretty depressed yesterday. I’ve been trying to find a playgroup that I can get Noora to here without me having to depend on a ride. After Palestine, I believe we both feel bored at home and a little more social. We aren’t quite fitting into our previous niches of being stay-at-home gals. So I found a Storytime playgroup at the public library up the street, but we missed the bus to catch it. We got up too late and didn’t have our extra car seat which would enable me to take a taxi. It started a series of breakdowns on both Noora’s and my part. She did the crying and kicking and dragging of feet enough for both of us. So I won’t mention the details of my tantrum.
But then a little light in the form of a letter…I heard some buzz about November being National Novel Writing Month. There’s a contest of some sort to write a novel in 30 days…50,000 words in a month. And somehow, even by hearing of it through an email not directly addressed to me, I feel some sort of pressure to take up the challenge.
I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I don’t know if I can stick with it. Just the other day, I bought the book First Draft in 30 Days. And though the idea of writing a whole book in 30 days is appealing, I don’t even have time to read the book about writing a book in 30 days. I guess this challenge must be the answer. It’ll require me to get down to the nitty gritty and learn as I go along. I guess this is the drive to make me do what the book says, instead of just reading it. It will be a lesson in time management for sure. Because with the bills, the baby, article deadlines, and Eid on its way, I don’t know how I could accomplish writing a whole novel in 30 days.
You know, I’m constantly receiving prods from family and friends to keep writing. When I was blogging in Jerusalem, so many people would call to ask me if the next post was ready to be published. LOL, if it was, it would’ve been published! People were driving me crazy! I don’t know why I want to do this to myself…it must be some form of masochism. Why should I put myself through this chaos? What’s the point of the stress of trying to meet a deadline that I impose upon myself when I have other stresses to worry about? I’m not sure if there is a prize beyond that intrinsic prize of knowing that I’ve finished something I’ve been waiting to do for months…years…but I think I want to do it. I think I owe it to myself to do something that I love doing…for myself.
So what do you think dear readers? You’re the ones who always tell me to keep writing and ask me for most posts…shall I take up the challenge?
I kinda already signed up…
…not that there’s a repercussion for not completing the challenge besides my face being mushed on the blogosphere!
even if I fail to write 50,000 words in 30 days, the challenge would bring me that much closer to reaching a goal that I’ve had for a long time.
shall I write a word or two?