I so envy my friend Shelia.
I say I’m a writer, but Shelia…Shelia is a WRITER. All caps. The girl has like four different books she’s working on at any given time and while she’ll tell you that she hasn’t written anything in nine months, nine months ago I read a completed novel that she wrote – and it is fabulous. Plus, she blogs like crazy (she keeps up at least two blogs of her own). I have no idea where she gets the inspiration, but I wish I could be more like her.
Me, I haven’t written anything for me in about five years. No stories. No poems. And you really can’t count this blog, because I hardly ever update it. I think about writing every day. I have scenes that happen in my head every day. Sometimes, I sit down to try to start, but it’s like that damn blinking cursor is taunting me. So I close up the computer and go play Angry Birds (or something equally as useless). Frankly, I’m ashamed of myself.
So, when Shelia mentioned that she’d signed up for National Novel Writing Month, an initiative that encourages all writers – even slackers like me – to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November, I thought, “Hm. Maybe I should do that.” The way I see it, it’s sorta like training for a half-marathon. If I know I’ve got a goal to complete, I bust my tush to get it done. Without a goal, I’ll just sit around playing Halloween Angry Birds until my thumbs fall off.
I figure writing a book might be more satisfying than exploding green pigs disguised as pumpkins.
Of course, now I’m freaking out that I’ve gone and signed up and wondering what in the hell I’m going to write 50,000 words about, but I’m praying that my creativity will get jumpstarted and I’ll have some semi-brilliant ideas to put down on paper.
If not, I can always go back to Angry Birds.
Wish me luck.