Yes, I finished NaNo, in case you're wondering. And in the spirit of getting words on the page, here's a post I wrote earlier in the year for Good Choice Reading
You know who you are—a lurking writer, someone who loves books with a mad fiery passion, someone who holds vocabulary as dear as chocolate, someone who dreams up stories while doing laundry or dishes or cleaning the toilet. You take notes on the people around you, pondering character traits, studying motivation, considering farfetched hopes and wild dreams.
Yes, that’s right, you want to be an author.
“But I don’t have time,” you sigh regretfully, looking at your ridiculously long to-do list and mentally itemizing your obligations and responsibilities.
I sympathize. Believe me, I do. Been there. I spent years putting off writing. I was a mom, a wife, a person with a job! Yes, I wanted to write, but anyone could see I didn’t have the time. That book would just have to wait.
I didn’t commit to finishing my first novel until divorce turned me into a single parent with less time than ever.
I made time. Started getting up really early to write even though it messed with my biorhythms. Kept going until I finally finished.
Writing takes commitment. And now, years later and remarried, I still struggle with finding enough time to write. But the books still refuse to write themselves.
Think of it as laundry or dishes or cleaning the toilet if you must, but get it on your list and treat it like it’s too important to put off.
Because it is.