Every day, I wake up with a glimmer of hope that today, I will find a beautiful notebook beside me to work with. And every day, I’m disappointed. I have had one decent one and two or three okay ones in the last 2-3 weeks, and I’m not sure what I was classify today’s as. It’s got some loose pages, but they’re not quite falling out yet. The cover is kinda flimsy and feels like it my come off soon, but the paper is smooth enough that I don’t mind writing on it.
I guess you could say it’s a well-loved notebook.
NaNoWriMo started 10 days ago. As usual, I am participating, but I’m doing so quietly this year. I’m writing a story I’ve been trying to write for years, but never could. It’s deeply personal, it’s my first real attempt at non-fiction, and it’s tearing me apart… I thought I would feel guilt writing this. But I don’t. I just feel an overwhelming sadness and grief for things I thought I had mourned years ago, and for things I didn’t know I was or would be mourning in the first place.
The thing about non-fiction – for me – is that I have to pull from memory. My memory is sketchy at best, and I don’t like to rely on it for accurate information. With fiction, I can refer back to previous chapters – was this character a blonde? Were her eyes green or brown? What was the name of that town again? All of the information is readily available in black and white on the computer. With non-fiction, and in particular one based on memories, there is a lot more room for inaccuracies and missed details. Important details.
I HATE feeling like I’m telling a lie. If I am not confident in an answer, nine times out of ten I will let someone else respond first, or I will say something like, “I’m not sure, but I think…”
And when I get it wrong… I feel like shit. I feel like I’ve lied and disappointed the other person greatly. Especially when they come back to let me know I was wrong.
I swear I am actually a rational adult.
I just have some… quirks.
That’s the polite way to say it, right?
You may or may not have noticed, but I now have SIGNED PAPERBACK COPIES of my books available for sale on my website! Check them out under the books button at alisoninsco.ca!
In the next week, I am going to have some bath products up for sale, too – bath bombs and shower steamers for sure, at least. That is the plan, anyway. Keep your eyes peeled!
Back to NaNoWriMo… 2018 is my 8th year participating. I won’t let it be my first year losing. I’ve switched gears once in the story already, and have taken breaks from writing more than a couple hundred words the last few days, but I’m not really behind yet. I’ve got less than 900 words to write in 3.5 hours. I can do that in half an hour if I put my mind to it.
Writing is a release for me. I’ve been writing since I was in the sixth grade and was barely 12 years old. I have my first story in its original handwritten format, and I transcribed it onto the computer a few years ago. It’s pretty terrible in its current iteration, but 12-year-old me wrote a 13,181 word novella. One day, I will polish it up like the hidden gem I think it could be.
So having said all that, having this story take everything out of me has been unusual and actually a little bit scary.
And now I’m blathering. I’ll back to wordvomiting my non-fiction for a while. Thanks for reading me, folks. I appreciate each and every one of you more than you know.
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