NaNoWriMo is over once again.
And since the month isn’t completely over, I thought I’d reflect a bit before the fatigue sets in (which it will, in a few hours I expect).
I stayed consistently over the daily goal, and wrote my way to a 62000 final count. My lifetime NaNo count will shatter 200k next year, and I am so excited to break that barrier. Few years from now and I’ll have written a million words. It’s fun to think about.
The Telescope Maker is a weird amalgamation of a bunch of stories I was planning over the last few months. One was lacking characters, the other story. I thought “why not just put them together” and so I did. Coupled with a few added things, this story was born and I started to plan.
I didn’t know how I was going to start it. It’s a curse when I plan. When I pants a project, I find I flow better, but the consequences involve plot holes and poor characterization.
This time around I genuinely like my characters. I know who they are, what they want and what they strive to. There is a part in my novel where for my main, everything goes wrong. I struggled to write it, because I didn’t want to hurt him. I am a writer who loves to make his characters bleed, but for the first time in a long while I struggled to do so.
I’ve gone through a great deal this year. Things I will not go into detail with. As a person, I struggle to let things go. I struggle to let myself off the hook for my own wrongdoings. I don’t care if I get hurt, but when I hurt other people, forgiving myself is impossible.
I channeled a lot of that hurt into this story. I wrote my pain into the situations my characters have to face. The novel is dedicated to two people I never meant to hurt. One of those people being someone I never got the chance to express my remorse to.
Sorry isn’t enough for me. I need to work and sweat and cry and suffer to show it.
Writing things like this is how I move on. How I grow. Sometimes you need to break bones so they heal properly. That for me, is a means to learn from my own misgivings and move forward as a better person.
It is why I write.
The sheer inanity of the statement strikes him as funny. Catherine tilts her head and gives him a look like he is insane, but Charlie’s laugh is contagious. Soon enough she is laughing, and with tears on their faces they are laughing together entwined on the bed, holding each other tightly and trying not to think about the world for a minute or two.
– Chapter 16