I have a deep desire to do NaNoWriMo this year. I have a hint of a story that I think could really be something I could write. Not necessarily something that will be great, but something that I can get a good first draft going with. That’s all I really want.
I want to have written. I want to put pen to page and have written.
Probably literal pen to literal page.
I have a great desire to hunker down and take back November, as the weather gets cooler. Give up on the things it is not my problem to fix and people who will never be happy with me, and focus on the things that bring me peace.
The house is dotted with projects that I want to work on. My brain is full of things I want to write down. My to-read pile is out of control. All things that I want to learn and take in, things I’m excited about experiencing. It’s all around me and I can’t enjoy it because of burn out and stress and anger.
I have a desire to do NaNoWriMo this year to ensure that I take that time every day to lose myself for a little bit in my imagination. To force myself to think of other things in other ways. To break my brain out of this terrible, messy state.
To exercise and exorcize.