I’ll be honest, this post has been sitting in my Drafts since the first week of May. Maybe even earlier since, as I was agonizing over the last two or three chapter of my WIP, I was already planning to write about how I somehow managed to do what had always felt to be the impossible, which was finish a first draft of a novel. But once the initial shock and elation of having done just that wore off and I tried to put into words how I felt, I couldn’t seem to get into it. While I knew that finishing a whole novel was a feat worth being proud of, I also knew that no one but myself really cared that I did it. And I couldn’t even really talk about the specifics of my novel because… well… it’s an early draft and honestly too embarrassing to delve into just now. Dedicating an entire blog post about something that I would have to be vague about isn’t exactly a riveting read. And a slog to write.
So. Instead of wholly focusing on that first draft of mine, I decided to make this a general update post. I’ve only got one other thing I want to talk about – my bullet journal, of all things – but mainly because quarantine has severely inhibited my already dull life.
Yeah, it’s been nearly two months since I set foot in this little book blog of mine all because I decided to take another shot at NaNoWriMo. I’ve grumbled about this before and I’ll grumble again but my first serious attempt at NaNoWrimo/writing a novel didn’t end as well as I’d like. Took me ages to even get to 50k words (the default goal). Back then my writing process was so all over the place that a single scene could take me days, even weeks, to finish because I had no idea what was going to happen next. When I realized that I was literally just writing in circles, I had to call it quits.
It wasn’t easy breaking up with my first WIP. I had spent nearly a year writing and it just felt like I flushed all that work down the drain. I considered salvaging it but, alas, the story was barely hanging by a thread in the first place. Rewriting it would have done me more harm than good. It’s hard to save a story that had little to offer in the first place. But! I did end up using the magic system that I oh so meticulously crafted in my current WIP. The thing still needs a lot of work but it’s something to tinker with.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here’s a little self-indulgent personal blog about my experience with NaNoWriMo this year and how ’17’s failure taught me more about my writing process and preferences.
I blinked and already it’s the middle of the year. I don’t know what I did for the past six months but I’m sure it was nothing worthwhile.
Anyway. It’s been about a month since I wrote an Epistolary post and although my life is still the same mind-numbing bore that it was in the 4th post, I suppose I can dredge up a couple of things to talk about here. Naturally, this post is going to talk about three things that I love: books, writing, and dogs.
Much like with most blog posts that I write, this Epistolary post was slated much earlier, preferably on the first week of April but then I got lazy, and then I lost interest, and then I forgot entirely. Story of my life, really.
Anyway. A couple of things has happened in the past month and more than once I found myself opening a new post to write down my thoughts and such but then I realized that no one but me really cares about my personal life so I’d close the window and file the idea away. Thank goodness I have this little blog series so I’ll have an excuse to write about my mundane existence.
Wow. I haven’t written one of these in a while. And by a while I mean literally not since last year. Somehow every time the idea of writing an Epistolary post pops up in my mind, another, more topical idea elbows its way to the front. Speaking of, I actually still need to write a Sequel Sunday for The Heart Forger…
But not just yet.
Since it’s the first day of the month, I figured that I should at least try to start it off right. And what better way to do that than by reviewing the first two months of the year in a loose and casual personal post. It’s weird because 2019 so far feels like it’s gone on for much longer than two months but at the same time like not much time has passed at all. A real paradox, I say.
I meant to write another Epistolary post – since I insisted that it’s a “series” I’m doing on my blog now – but I kept putting it off in favour of working on more interesting, more pressing posts. Honestly, last week was supposed to be that Ruthless Magic in-depth analysis that I’ve been vaguely working on for weeks but… apparently themes are much more difficult to sort out than I expected so that post will have to wait until next year.
Anyway, ever since my first Epistolary, a lot of things have happened. Not all of them good but most of them aren’t nearly as bad as I thought it was. Though my paranoid pea-sized brain does tend to exaggerate every little inconvenience so that’s not really saying much.
Y’know I recently realized that the main reason why I keep neglecting this blog of mine is because… I’ve lost the spirit of what it means to blog. No joke, I really think that, along the way of trying to improve my content, I may have forgotten what got me into blogging in the first place. Way, way back (as far back as my Livejournal days), I used to be able to write without a care. Sure, I may have overshared a little bit and, yeah, my writing was garbage (more so than now, I mean), but blogging was actually fun back in the day. It was enjoyable and cathartic. Nobody read what I wrote – thank god! – but I loved opening an empty text box and just going all out.
Now on my quest to be a better writer, I may have put too much unnecessary pressure on myself and, as a result, spoiled what was once a very enjoyable hobby. Crap.
So! To reignite the spark I once had with blogging, I’ve decided to start this, uh, let’s call it a series of sorts. The “Epistolary” series is going to be just me writing as casually as I can, trying to go back my LJ roots where I wrote personal anecdotes or whatever came to mind without caring if my post would be interesting or worthwhile to anybody but myself. Not like I have actual readers now but for this series I’m not even going to pretend that someone might give a damn about my blog.