Emerging again. But not like a butterfly.

So, wow. November, hey? What a ride that was. I wrote feverishly, creating giant plot holes that I lost myself in. I threw my hands in the air and shouted at my characters to behave, and rewrote their back stories when they wouldn’t. I’m attached, and finished, and glad to be done.

I’m also suffering from NaNoWriMo hangover. I haven’t written any fiction in five days and it feels strange to not have any pressure, or plot points hanging around in there. If you tap on my head, it’s hollow, written out and written down.

By the end, I was averaging 2k words a day, mostly written in a frenzy after Evelyn fell asleep each night. I lost sleep, tapping away at my laptop until midnight, making the characters dance to my whims.

And now it’s over, it feels like I’m emerging again. Not like a butterfly – more like a mole. Or something that lives underground, creeping around in the dank depths of insanity.

It’s Summer now, and long warm days are the perfect things for writing – or for thinking about writing, while actually playing in the garden.

The benefit of all this concerted effort in November, are the habits I form. Writing doesn’t take as long. Putting words down on the paper is a faster, smoother process.

The other benefit of NaNo are the people you meet. Other writers, who understand the insanity of making up lies to tell people on purpose. Of creating people who are entirely real, and entirely fake.

In a few weeks, I’ll pick up my rough draft again and read it through, red pen in hand. I’ll slash and burn, and rebuild, and write. I’ll beat it into submission, and make something of it. Because that’s what I do. I write. Writers write.

After that, who knows?

I do know I am glad November is over, crazy brilliant fun that it is. My poor brain needs a small holiday, and I am happy to relax into this, the holiday season, with books and notepads and plans for the New Year.

Did you do NaNoWriMo? Did you win?