The eradication of those unpleasant platinum slivers of what was once my youthful brown hair is where I find myself on this day of #NaNoWriMo. Today marks day twenty of this yearly pilgrimage of mine to complete the many attempts at sewing together all of my collective thoughts, the various colors of post it notes found in places no normal human would keep them, the assorted serviettes from my favorite eateries with composed sentences, and the journal found on what was once my organized writing desk. These last few days the view of my writing desk who I nicknamed Daisy on account of the lovely baby powder coloring of my IKEA HEMNES desk has had the look as if a miniature land mine was placed on it and detonated.
National Novel Writing Month always seems to take what was once a collective, passive, confident, and fearless self and turns me into a coffee running through her veins type of woman. I begin to talk a bit quicker unable to slow down my passages, I start to “hear” people convey unfavorable outcomes or pessimistic “reviews” all while thinking to myself “read before you speak.” I then “awake” and realize that the voices are coming from within me. I fall asleep every night wondering how to get them to stop. I wonder if taking pen to paper is worth it in the end? Is writing my “out?” Or is writing my way “in?”
Ten days until I am myself again.