After I had published the last blog post here about NaNoWriMo, I opened the site and logged in. Oh my goodness! It doesn’t look anything at all like the CampWriMo´s. I could neither make head nor tails out of it, and it rather scared me than pepped me to write.
If I can’t even figure out how the site works, why should I bother to sign up? If something makes me unsure, how could that then be supportive? I guess I’ve better have my own NaNo-variety. Just write!
And as a matter of fact, if I can’t write without having a metaphorical crutch or two under my armpits, then what? I must anyhow sooner or later be self-dependent on my ability to keep on doing what I really want to do. Preferably sooner. And yes! I talk about writing.
It’s kind of like any medicament. You may have to rely on it for a while, to get you over the worst part of whatever it is. But then you have to take the responsibility yourself, for your own body and its health. Especially when you get nasty side effects. That tells you that your body doesn’t agree with those chemicals. Might have done so, at the beginning you even needed it! But not any longer! There are way better health-roads to travel.