On this day, the second day of nanowrmio, I ponder if one can even truly write the beginning of the novel without having gotten to the end first? How do I know that where I start it, and how I start it, is the way it is supposed to be started? As I write I discover more and more about this world, and I think is this how it’s supposed to be? Should I be lying out these details here, or over there? Should I be concerned about the dialogues, or the atmosphere?
We’ve all heard the saying that something is like ridding a bike. Don’t worry, it will come back to you, just like riding a bike. This is a lie. It is a filthy lie we tell ourselves to get ourselves back out there doing the thing we stopped doing in the first place
Writing is like running. You can train up to and run a 5k, but if you stop for a few month in-between don’t expect to still be able to run 5k at the same pace. You stopped. You let go of your training. You did not maintain. You must start again, maybe not from the beginning, but definitely not quite as far ahead as you where either.
Writing demands time and patience, and dedication. It demands that we push ourselves too. Once we master one set of abilities, we must learn to operate all of the other tools in our toolbox. We are more than just hammering words to the page. We are sanding them down, smoothing them out. Words are both functional and decorative, and we must learn to use when and where.
This is what I think of as I fumble through this rough draft like a toddler in the dark of night, bound to bump into something. All I can hope is that in this race, I learn how to pace myself once again.