I signed up for Camp Nanowrimo this year. I sign up for Camp Nanowrimo every year and I do so with high hopes. I do so while bragging about being a pantser. I sign up for a cool cabin filled with inspired YA writers. I watch virtual write-ins and binge on those motivational videos the real writers post in your Nanowrimo inbox. I even got my coworker to make me a customized book cover last year.
Now to be clear, I have won Nanowrimo. Three years in a row, I busted my butt to write those fifty thousand words. But there’s something about Camp. I have never won camp. Not once. Not in May. Not in July.
This time, I didn’t even manage to write one word. Not one single word.
And I think I’m justified in blaming my MFA program. There’s loads of reading in my program. Loads. And I’m not making excuses, but with all the reading and all the writing…. and the erasing, and the combined writing and erasing… and then pondering, and then crying, and erasing some more, I just don’t have the time to write with joy.
The sad thing is, I love all things Nanowrimo. This is not a guiltless fail. My heart is sort of broken. I love it when the nano team sends me that certificate that says I’m a winner. I so long to be a winner!