I have been pining for a while. Pining and whining. I’m ready for a change. I’ve been ready for a change. On two separate occasions (once in 2005, once in 2008) I’ve started novels. Like miscarriages, conceived but never fully developed.
Now, I’m 3 days away from the wildest writing ride of my life. Wilder than last year’s NaBloPoMo. Wilder than the last few weeks spent warming up on my non-fiction work. I’m pregnant, expectant, ready to deliver. I think my water’s broken. I’m at the cusp of full-blown labor pains. NaNoWriMo.
I’m in awe. Afraid yet alive with excitement. Nervous energy wells as I edge closer to the precipice. When I wake up Sunday morning I will be at the start of something that will change me. It is inevitable. I will not leave this experience the same as when I started – no matter how the birthing process goes. I’m ready to shout it to the world. And, God willing, by the end of November I will.
“I’m a novelist!”