Sunday begins NaNoWriMo again. That’s National Novel Writing Month, in which a bunch of people hunker down and try to bang out a 50,000 word first draft in 30 days. This year I’m far too stressed-out to seriously consider such a thing, but the idea that thousands of people are all entrenched together in an act of literature for 30 days, gives me the steamy-eyes similar to how I feel at the Olympic opening ceremonies. I believe in a cosmic consciousness in which people who are purposefully pursuing the same thing create energy that others can feed off of and contribute to. It makes me wonder if writing a first draft in November is easier because so many people are doing it. Is it easier to run by yourself or with a group? It is, right? So I’ve heard. That’s why I think the same might apply here.
I don’t know. It’s enticing. I definitely want to do it, but I already have enough stress and I tend to put Ridiculously Massive Pressure on myself for everything, so I think it might be unwise. I’d still like to participate somehow. Maybe a smaller and less-stressful literary goal, like reading two classics in November. I still haven’t finished Invisible Man. That counts, right?