Every year after National Novel Writing Month ends, I go through a sort of post-NaNo depression. For a few days, I’ll mope around, lamenting the state of my novel, my room, and all other aspects of life that have been sadly ignored during the month of November. The mere thought of writing just might make me cry.
I’ve written a grand total of 500 words since 11/30. I’d originally written 700, but I deleted all of those and replaced them with this new 500. NaNo is over. I’m allowed to delete things again, and I tend to do that a lot out of frustration as I try to rebound from NaNo. How did I ever write without that adrenaline pumping?
But, as I always do, I managed to drag myself out of my funk. This year, the little thing that gave me a nudge to get back to old things was as cliché as it comes: a sunrise.
I was driving to the barn this morning at six AM, and when I got into the lovely countryside and could actually see without my view being blocked by stuff, there was a gorgeous yellow, pink, purple, orange, and gold sunrise. I grinned like a maniac. I thought that’s so jaw-dropping gorgeous; if only I could turn it into words!
I love that feeling. You get super excited about something you may have seen a thousand times, that might be completely commonplace, or, by some standards, boring. But you see it in a new way, or you just realize BAM, that’s pretty darn awesome.
In some ways, I think that’s what writers (and other people as well) do. You take something ordinary and let people see it in a different way, or maybe even show it to them for the first time. Can you imagine someone seeing a sunrise for the first time? Wouldn’t that be an amazing experience? And wouldn’t you love to be a part of it?
I don’t have the audacity to say my writing is as awesome as a sunrise (actually, I might… just not where anyone could hear me!). But I do have the audacity to say that I know I’ve given a few people a good time while reading my stories. Maybe not a maniacal-grinning sunrise experience, but a good time nonetheless.
Most days, I write for myself. I’m a selfish writer like that. But sometimes – like now, when I promised a bunch of people that I’d have Summer Rush draft seven all tidied up and given to them with a red ribbon by mid-December – I write for others. Sure, the world could live without my writing (and your writing, and James Patterson’s writing, and J.K Rowling’s writing). But why make it?
’Cause hey, one day your words might make someone grin like a maniac and think that’s so jaw-dropping gorgeous; thank goodness someone wrote these words!