If I do go ahead and commit myself to writing something next month, it’ll be pretty obvious that I won’t be doing any planning this year. Unless some kind of miracle occurs and a Muse visits me in the night to heap tons of great ideas onto me I’ve got nothing to plan for. That means whatever I do come up with will be as hot a pile of garbage as the first one I did.
I’ve never been much of a planner, really, but some kind of roadmap is nice to follow. When I can start ticking off boxes I can feel like I’m making progress other than just a word count. Because, let’s be honest, by the end of November I’m just making up sentences to fill the space to keep up the quota.
Without that, the whole thing feels like I’m tossing stuff in just to keep pace. That’s why I really wish I had some kind of idea of what I wanted to do. I wish I had the ideas and mental ability I did way back when I was younger. I wish I could think of something even halfway decent.
And that’s why I do what I do rather than being an author and making millions of dollars on movie deals.