Tomorrow is the first day of NaNoWriMo, also known as National Novel Writing Month. Every November, all sorts of writers take on the challenge of trying to write a draft of a novel in a month. Note that I say "Draft," because very, very few novels are finished in one draft, and while some writers might be able to draft and then revise a novel in a month, I don't think that's a very realistic goal.

For me, especially.

And it's too bad, because if anyone should try to finish a novel in the next month, it's me. All the stars are lining up for me. I have a new book coming out next year, I have an ever-expanding audience of interested readers which will certainly grow in the next 12 months, and I have a wonderful editor who is interested in seeing what I write next. So yes, I should endeavor to finish my current work-in-progress within the next 30 days.

And I may try to do that. But just as likely, I will fail.

Great attitude, huh?

I actually think that it's not so much a matter of attitude as it is a matter of acceptance. Acceptance of my own process as a writer.

It takes me a while to birth a novel. I know one successful author who can write a draft of a novel in 15 days and it's relatively clean. In 15 days, I'm generally spelunking through a creative cave, bumping into walls, opening doors that lead to ... nowhere special. Forget 15 days; with this current book, I'm still spelunking even though I started this process four months ago.

I have written about 75 pages, but I feel as though the heart of the novel is still not yet pulsing. I thought I knew my main character(s), but every day that I attempt to write, I find that I am further and further from truly embodying them. They change. They adjust. They battle me at every step as I try to define them.

"Don't stereotype me!" they yell. "Stop using me as a vehicle to explore your ideas."

I honestly don't know what to do, but one thing that might help would be to stop fighting. This is that thing where I "should" myself to death. I should be a different kind of writer. I should be able to change my process.

Openly Straight was an extremely challenging birth. It's easy for me to forget that now that I've seen it in book form, but it's a miracle that I got through that book. I remember sitting at my computer in Montana, certain I'd never figure out what this puzzle was all about. I hadn't yet discovered the camera, or the History of Rafe (you'll have to read the book next year to know what I mean). And then, one day, it began to pour from me.

I have to have faith, as writing is a spiritual practice. I must believe that Duffy and Aisha (from Best of Bipolar Disorder) will start to speak to me if I just keep trying and stop telling myself what "should" happen today.

Chuck just reminded me about F. Scott Fitzgerald, who once came back from a day of writing and reported that he'd had a terrific writing day. He'd written one word. But it was the right word!

So I will try NaNoWriMo, but I will accept failure if that's what is supposed to happen. If I continue to put in my best effort every day, failure isn't a possibility. It'll all happen when it's s'posed to happen.