It’s been a year since I posted last. NaNoWriMo has come, gone and come around again. Yes, I completed last year, did I do anything with the book I wrote? No. It lies neglected in a nice tidy pile next to my desk.
A funny thing happened after I wrote my first draft.
I hated it. I hated the characters, the premise and everything about the story. My villains weren’t bad ass enough, my hero turned into a bad ass and my heroine was a big-wring-her-hands-at-conflict wuss.
It took me a year to be okay with the fact that I can’t write certain types of fiction. My mind won’t twist itself into a romance writing, mystery writing or crime writing author. Nope, I need to write off the wall fantasy with twisty stuff. Like Dungeon & Dragons, or Pawn of Prophecy, (Not Tolkien, I’m not that good) or even maybe The Well of Souls.
I need dwarves, fairies and giants. Talking wardrobes and trees that throw apples. I can’t do real life settings. I need to twist my worlds into a blend of make-believe and reality. In my mind reality has werewolves, talking cars and necromancers. My world has tech stuff and swords, castles and condos, demons who surf and angels who curse.
A year ago I started a book, and 364 days later it sits unfinished. And I am okay with that.
NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. And this time, I am going to have fun and do it my way.