I apologize for not writing more in the past few months. The two posts on OCD took it out of me to some degree, and I’ve been taking a break from writing about mental illness.
But then something else happened. My daughter signed up for a second year of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), and using her sly daughter Jedi magic she roped me into doing NaNoWriMo as well.
Ok, to be fair I’d wanted to do it, but she’s the catalyst that made it happen.
The idea behind NaNoWriMo is that each participant, during the month of November, writes fifty thousand words of a novel. Or to put that another way, each participant writes, on average, 1666 words per day for a solid month.
I’ve had a couple of ideas for novels hanging around for a while. None of them are very inspired, but one itched to be written more than any other. It’s a novel about a girl with TS and OCD who struggles with her own identity, her own value, her own place in the world. She’s thwarted by so many things that people with mental illness are thwarted by: indifference, outright animosity, misunderstanding, and distrust. And like many with mental illness, not all of that comes from the outside.
So far I have just over ten thousand words on the page with… forty thousand to go. (Yes, I’m behind schedule.) In those ten thousand words it’s already taken me places I didn’t expect to go, and shown me sides of my characters I didn’t expect to see. It’s hard work, but it’s a fun journey.
I don’t know if this novel will ever see light of day. I hope so, but that’s a whole ‘nuther story.