I…kind of get the feeling this whole, novel-ing thing isn’t for me. I’ve been dutifully going along so far with this year’s NanoWrimo after failing it last year. I have written about 12,000 words this time – which I’m pretty sure is better than last years attempt. And I do like the story I’ve written this year a lot more.
So, I wrote about a guy called Jamie Eltin, going to work in a seasonal Night Watch position in a forest/wood/hillside retreat called Stringham. I was having him doing the unsocial night watch, feeling ignored and undervalued by the boss as it were Nita Leavell, coming to nit picky blows with the handyman Allan, and finally meeting one of the guests Chritie. Jamie was generally unsociable and a bit of a loner.
During the course of the next few days Jamie is unnerved by the green tiled pool, the empty woods and bad dreams. Someone comes into his cabin and takes food. He finds muddy foot prints in the reception leading to the disused parts of the main retreat building. He feels watched and harassed – and then he finds a faded old blue note pad, which turns out to have belonged to someone who worked there before him.
The note pad described other buildings that used to be part of the retreat, but are now abandoned for some reason. Jamie investigates and finds one old building, but someone interrupts him and he hides – knowing he’s not doing his job. Later Jamie is pushed into the pool by someone during his watch, holding him down.
…Aaaand then I stopped. I played Minecraft, and the Sims 3. I watched Game of Thrones. I read through the Fifty Shades Trilogy. I read Eighty Days Yellow. How to be a Woman. The Great Gatsby. And I’m now just about to finally read The Casual Vacancy.
So, I’m thinking maybe loving to read, and even reading vicariously doesn’t at all translate – for me at least – into being able to write. Or maybe I’m just not in a good position to write right now with all the combined stress of a lot of stuff going on in the background. Who knows?
I’m not going to continue with this NanoWrimo then. I feel a little guilty, to be honest. I do know I could get through it. I don’t think it’s going to do anything for me. Right now. And maybe not ever. I’ll be keeping – like I did last time – what I’ve written to far.