The last entry that I wrote is mocking me.
The entry that said I was going to write more and was finally going to get serious about this blog is just sitting there, waving its hands in the air so it’s impossible for me to miss. Jerk. I want to blame it on the whirlwind summer, and while this summer was crazy, it seems a bit disingenuous to stick the blame on it altogether.
I really need to figure out my bearings. It turns out that it’s easier to say you want to do things than to actually go out and do those things. Who knew?
Since the last time I wrote, the changes have been extreme.
I moved, changed positions (technically) at work, went through a lot of changes and upheaval at work, lost a cat to cancer, adopted a new cat from the shelter, broke my hand, lost some friends, healed my hand, and found some new ones.
I just finished Nanowrimo earlier this week with a novel that I hadn’t really wanted to write. I loved the characters, one of which I’d been writing for seven years, and I didn’t want to let them go. They had been constant companions for me in my writing and I had grown attached to them despite myself. Writing them out and knowing that this was their last story was an emotional trip for me. I would be typing without being able to see the screen as I sobbed like a dying seal and now that it’s done I miss that pull, that rush, even if I was dragging my feet by the end of November.
The great thing about writing for Nanowrimo isn’t the winning or the sponsor goodies, it’s being able to look back and see what you’ve accomplished.
Life is a lot like that too and maybe Nanowrimo is just a metaphor for life struggles that I find easier to digest. Either way, the looking back and seeing the good behind me has been something that I’ve never been good at. The same goes with embracing change and allowing things to end.
I don’t like endings, generally.
It may be hyperbolic of me to say, but they feel like death. Good endings or bad ones, they feel like a loss. For me, endings are game overs that I should have been able to avoid. If I had played the game better or been more clever or had more skills, would we still have ended up in the same place?
Should I continue?
Stepping into December feels like stepping into a whole new world. November is over, the crazy sprint is done, and it can be overwhelming just how much time you have when you’re not trying to write thousands of words per day. I’m trying to hold onto that heady strangeness and to embrace it, but it’s a work in progress. It’s a very strange feeling to do what you would normally avoid, but it’s thrilling at the same time.
So bring it on, December.
I’m (hopefully) ready for it.