Cities do not speak. Beaches do not dance. Mountain ranges do not dream. Places are not, intrinsically, human. The humanity we derive from them is based in our own perception, the sights, sounds and smells that form a location or environment in our mind. There is no natural anthropomorphism to a place, and that is why it is so important that we put it there.
NaNo is an excellent tool that has provided me with an education in storytelling, a community, and support that us loner-writer types really do need. And though those benefits may change over time, they don’t go away. After more than a decade of this madcap writing sprint, here are a few reasons I keep going back.
There was never a time in my life I wasn’t making up mad tales and then eventually putting them to paper, where my love for the idea turned into a love for the words themselves and then the craft and then combination of all three. What would I be if I wasn’t a writer? I have no idea.
This house, specifically, called to my baser self for over a year. What does that have to do with writing? Everything.
I have learned languages, found lovers and love, failed and succeeded more times than I can count. And through all of that, through the ups and downs, the adventures, experiences, fears and joys, I have always, always been a writer.
I have a Faulkner quote hanging in the top right corner of my vision as I sit at my desk, and it’s come to be something I live my life by.
I either write vigorously, passionately, insanely – scribing pages in messy script every night before bed, in between tasks throughout the day, at breakfast and at lunch. I write down everything. Or I don’t write at all.