Tales of a Nano dropout
Since I joined Nanowrimo in 2016, and especially after I found the Nanobes in 2017, it has been such a big part of my life, of my identity as a person and an artist.
I've met some of my best friends at Nano events, lived some of my most vibrant moments inside the Nano bubble. I've always loved the chill, exciting, welcoming vibes the community thrives on. I've felt at home in the goofy, nerdy, queer, artsy, downright transformative atmosphere of it. Nano gave me a space to be myself, allowed me to bloom into the person I wanted to be.
Then 2020 happened and slapped us all in the face. And I have been lucky: I did not lose my job, I managed to quarantine in an apartment I love and spend some social-distanced time with my loved ones. I did not lose my mind. I listened to roughly 100 000 podcast episodes, to Hozier about twice as much. I dyed my hair a dozen times. I was safe, my family was safe.
But writing has been so much harder since the first Camp in April. My proverbial well seems to be dry. I don't do well with the anxiety of silence when my fingers should be dancing on a keyboard. And I miss the community. I'm not good at forums and chats, I never really got them. At best, they distract me. At worst, they make me feel even more isolated.
The company of an empty room, me, my computer and shaky wifi. Trapped inside my inability to write.
In spite of all that, I've still managed to do some creative things this year. I started writing songs and recording with my favorite person. I wrote many poems and made a zine of them. I've been trying, without pushing myself.
I've been trying to do the art thing, trying to be the person I want to be, trying to stay alive and upright the whole time. It's been exhausting and vaguely shameful.
When I look at my word count today, my lack of creative drive and focus, the utter desert of inspiration I face, how alienated I feel from the community, I am disappointed in myself. I expected more. I expected fun and kinship and passion and joy. I expected the usual Nano. I prepared for it. I am always so excited for November.
Now I'm just sad, tired and bored. And yeah, you can bet I am counting this in my word count, but even that won't get me over ten thousand words.
It's been a long, sad year. I never expected it to impact this thing I love so much, so intensely, to the point where I question the relationships and happiness it brought to my life.
I guess what I'm feeling is probably echoed in the minds of many, but I haven't seen it written anywhere, so I wanted to share my own experience. If you're in the middle of your own Nano meltdown and blaming yourself for it: you're not alone. These times, this thing we're doing where we're trying to tell stories while also trying to survive, it's hard. You should give yourself more credit for the surviving.
Don't despair, inspiration will strike again, maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe in the middle of December because time has no meaning. And above all, you're not alone.
