National Novel Writing Month: The Preshow Jitters

On Friday, I couldn't wait for National Novel Writing Month to start. I wanted nothing so much as to devote myself without fail or rest to something greater than myself. I looked forward to becoming a zealot. I prepared myself for a monk's life. I told all my friends I would party hard through October, reach out and touch the stars themselves on Halloween, then wake up the next day with a pen in my hand and a goal in my heart and write, write, write the living hell out of 50 thousand choice words.

Then I woke up yesterday and realized there was no way in hell that I could actually write a novel. It's too big. Too hard. I don't know what the story is, or where it will go. But that's not right. That's not the real reason I was scared. Because I know that I can do it, and that's what really frightens me.

My whole life that I can remember, I've always wanted to be a writer. I read so many books when I was a kid - my peak was definitely junior high, when school was easy and I didn't have any really good friends, when I could read the latest iteration of the Star Wars X-Wing Rogue Squadron series. I can still remember how it felt to finish Stephen King' "It" - I think that was getting into high school, though with Stephen King I can never quite keep it straight. I can remember the feeling of tremendous accomplishment, King for writing it, me for reading it. I can remember how it felt to hold an adult book rather than a children's book.

My dad used to take me to bookstores and buy several books at once - fiction, history, biography. He wouldn't finish many of them. I do that, now, too. My mom gave me so much of what I think of as my writing ability, but my dad was the one who taught me about the weight of books. To this day, nothing pleases me more than buying several books at once. It is my one real luxury. I am doing everything I can to cut excess spending during this long dark night of unpaid internshipping - no more video games (I left the playstation at home), no more music (iTunes beckons me like a loathsome quick-pay siren), no more DVDs, no lavish dinners (I'm learning how to cook).

I went to City Lights last night late and thought I might suffer a panic attack because I looked around me at all these books - all the worlds contained within the binding - and thought, I could create one of these things, I might have a book here certainly within the next decade at least. Books to me are sacred objects. If I can create one, does that make them less sacred? I am not Icarus, nor was meant to be.

I bought several books and came up with a new title.

"Why Is Johnny Pope"