So, hey, I just finished my NaNoWriMo challenge. Yeah! It’s done. The raw words are there. But the process of writing a book–an engaging, entertaining, cohesive body of work–has only begun. Snowbound Christmas Stalking is far from done, but that’s not my problem now.
Distancing myself from the word spew is the order of this day.
Getting my head into a happier space is what I have to do. And generally transitioning back into human form. This takes longer than a month.
A dear friend’s wise young daughter–a subject matter expert thanks to her nanny status and early exposure to her writer mom and me–has endured a month’s worth of throwing chocolate at the problem. Specifically, NaNoWriMo adherents who have, for nearly 30 days, run the gamut of psychosis in this attempt to produce a book in a month.
We NaNoWriMo-ers are a twitchy breed, tending toward moodiness if not outright drama. (No doubt that’s why my younger daughter Gwendolyn, best buddies with Nanny-Know, offered chocolate libations to the Beast on Black Friday. Sunday saw more of the same. Yum. FYI: I’m known as Beast to my kiddos in case anyone was wondering ;^)
But I’m into celebrating steps. Even crashes to the floor. That’s what can happen after NaNo is over. What to do? What to write? All that excitement, pressure, all that support, all the hormones–poof–gone.
It’s post partum at its finest. And when you pull back that receiving blanket, the sight isn’t always squee worthy.
But that’s okay. Let yourself go. And if you fall, take heart. There’s nothing like a good face plant to give rise to rising from the ashes. And those around you will be glad to help if only to lure you back from dark places.