I’m clawing away at NaNoWriMo, and it’s really, really hard. I update my word count about a dozen times every time I write, because I am determined to meet my goal. It’s like when I ran the 5K or served my mission–it was pain and suffering for the most part, but in no way was I going to NOT finish.
I’m what NaNoWriMo officials call a “rebel,” because I am writing a memoir and not a work of fiction. This is actually a little bit harder, because I can’t just randomly introduce conflict in my memoir. It has to have happened.
This is where my journals have been invaluable. When I am stuck, or find details lacking, I pull out my journals and use what I wrote. So today I am grateful for my journals. They have never been daily, but they have regular enough that I can pull together fragments of my life and recreate my life for this ridiculous experiment that is NaNoWriMo.
