Something happened in the early hours of the morning. Something that made me open my eyes and pull the covers tightly up to my chin.
I knew this day was coming.
I’ve been watching the months tick by, the posts and mentions gradually increase.
And now here it is.
Why do I fear it so much this year?
My goals to write novels and produce grand literary feats withered somewhere around July when I simply lost the motivation, the inspiration, and the “freshness” that had been keeping me going in the first six months of the year. I have slowly been picking back up my good writing habits in the past couple of weeks, but knowing I’m far from completing my goals I set at the beginning of the year can sometimes be very demotivating.
But here it is. November.
There’s been a change in seasons. Winter has given way to Spring for some, and for others Summer has permitted Autumn to wander through. And me? I’m not going to indulge writer’s block any longer. It’s time for a change in how I view my writing, and myself as a writer.
I am taking ownership of the fact that this month I have to write. I don’t have to write because it’s NaNoWriMo. I don’t have to write because people are wondering what my word count is. I don’t have to write because it’s a last-minute dash to produce something before the year comes to a close.
I have to write because if I don’t, I might go insane. I might lose sight, once again, of the joy I get from the process of writing, and the joy I get from having written.
I have to write because I love it so much, and I’ve been making too many excuses of late that have compromised this love, this need, this want.