PNS

I have, over the last 15 months, alone and with help, removed pretty much all of my “I’m not writing because…” statements. Removed them to such a point that, for the past week, it is easier for me to write (even when exhausted or overworked or whatever) than it is to make excuses. I am not even afraid of NaNoWriMo.

Sort of.

I discovered yesterday that I am in the grip of a peculiar horror. I am deeply, deeply afraid of December 1. In December I will have a finished draft of one novel, and half of another novel in my hands with thirty easy days of writing left to do. When I succeed at NNWM (for such is my mindset, these days, that I can say “when” in a matter-of-fact way) I will have dispensed with even pretending that I can stall.

Two. Drafts. And rewriting takes me less time than writing.

The future is upon me. It looms, a shadowed figure in my doorway, holding gifts in its clawed hands that I dare not name nor look upon, for fear that I lose everything that I have known in my life and be swept away by that horror that I can only call “Happiness”.

And, no shit, kiddies, this is frightening.

I know how to be frustrated. I know how to be overburdened and put upon and unfulfilled. I know all there is about sacrificing dreams on alters so diminutive one must annex them to hold the shed blood. I have limited experience in exploring my dreams productively.

What if I have to take joy in my daily work?

What then?

I expressed some of this to Shannon, and told her it was Pre Novel Syndrome. I should be better once I’m in rewrites, once I’m moving forward from this threshhold.

“PNS? You have PNS? Well I wish you’d just bleed it out and get it over with.” She was utterly failing not to laugh at my fears.

I glowered. “But it cramps.”

She kissed my forehead. “We’ll buy you a heating pad.”

4 thoughts on “PNS”

  1. she’s a wise one!

    actually i have a finished and don’t know how to edit it draft of “Driven”. I go into spasms thinking about it. I found the last 1/6 or so was like running down hill – scary and exhillerating and out of control. Couldn’t stop.

    These days.. not so much like that. I hope it all picks up speed. I’m writing 2 novels at once. one will drop and the other gets picked up.

    You shall survive. I’m glad to hear you are doing so well.

    What if I have to take joy in my daily work?
    No fear… frustration waits around the corner!

    1. She is, in fact, wise.

      Come January, I shall have more free time, and will cheerfully lend what help I have to your editing, if such is what you require.

  2. You wrote:
    “The future is upon me. It looms, a shadowed figure in my doorway, holding gifts in its clawed hands that I dare not name nor look upon, for fear that I lose everything that I have known in my life and be swept away by that horror that I can only call “Happiness”.”

    Don’t fear, you can always find ways to screw up your life if that’s what you want. I think happiness is more dependent upon genetics than circumstance. Change is stressful, and over-dramatic reactions are fun.

    I hope my buddy Steve goes to CA soon, where he can get Glen Fiddich at Costco pretty cheap. 🙂

    1. I suspect you’ll need to. FINALLY.

      It’s a very odd feeling; a few hundred words comes every ten minutes, so even a couple thousand are just a few ten-minute sprints away. Suddenly, this book doesn’t look like such a monumental task, and I’m having much more fun with the writing. A couple hours a day of listening to my own voice; it must be Heaven.

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