The month of November has ended. And so goes with it the time of NaNoWriMo.
Yet while the month draws to a close the experience does not. It will never leave me. Or shall I say I will never lose sight of it, the writing I accomplished during NaNoWriMo and who I became.
More of a writer.
Terry Brooks distinguishes between authors and writers. While authors writer stories, writers continue to learn, in fact seek out new skills to hone and integrate regarding the craft and artistry of writing simultaneous to the process of writing their stories.
I suppose that is what differentiates the craft of writing from simply jotting down stories.
And don’t get me wrong. There is a lot of money to be made or had from simply jotting down stories, polishing them up and putting them out there for sale.
And if that makes one happy, they are lucky to have discovered that.
Those like myself for whom the process delivers what I crave, to get lost in the world of my characters so much so that they and I on this inseparable track become one and I, deposited at the end of the story find myself a changed individual, the desire for craft stands above all else.
To attempt anything less yields a story less entertaining and that does not even approach the level of engagement granted by those stories jotted down and polished in a tidy minute.
In actuality, no story worth the time required to read it can be written or crafted in a New York minute. Yet there are some that can be written and squared away in less time that others require for full blooming.
Every writer must decide what kinds of stories the universe delivers her or him and then she or he must determine the time required of her or him to make the best and most of what she or he has received.
To whom much is given, much is required.
All are given talents. “Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his wealth to each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. To one he gave five bags of gold, to another two bags, and to another one bag.”
Do you write with the desire for financial rewards guiding the choice of words you invest on paper?
Or in realizing the difficulties of life and living, do you hold your stories within the bosom of your heart, and allow them space to blossom into parables of truth?