Yesterday I finished my 50,000 word NaNoWriMo novel. I am now officially a winner. And I am not sure what I feel. The last 5k was somewhat haggard as I hit the wall at the 45k mark. Having quickly realised that I didn’t have time to be methodical I wrote a prologue and an epilogue to help me stagger over the finish line. Today is the first morning where I don’t have to write, yet here I am, a literary crack head.
Every day for the last twenty-nine I have woken up and engaged myself in the life of others. Today I shall not. My plan for the next week is to submit my first novel to the next agent, write nothing and read a little. First I shall re-read the excellent Dice Man by Luke Rhineheart, and then hopefully having grown some distance to myself will I start to look at if anything can come out of November’s madness.
My doubts are not due to the nature of NaNoWriMo but more due to the fact that I have written a novel which finishes in 50,000 words, which in my opinion is far to short for most publishers. Ideally 80k is a minimum. I am not convinced by the idea of increasing the size of the story by an extra 50%, as at 50k the story seems to evolve quite naturally. Whether my opinion will change at some point I don’t know.
Another question is what I do with this blog. Having initially promised myself that I would resign from it on my 31st birthday, here I am. I will think that over through December and make a decision in the new year.
I suppose the biggest positive to come out of November is the fact that I can say that I have written two novels. For the first time I find myself feeling like a novelist as opposed to someone who has written a novel. The only question now is whether they will ever see the light of day. For the time being I can remain confident in the fact that I am, and I probably will always remain a literary failure.