For those of you who may or may not know, I like to think I'm a writer.
Sure, there are plenty of folks who are very supportive of this title. I'm sure several of them a reading this and scratching their heads trying to figure out why I have any doubt. Or, perhaps, they are shaking their heads and rolling their eyes with a smile on their faces acknowledging with mirth that once again I am falling into a period of self doubt where I do not ascribe much worth to my musings.
Personally, I have a lot of self doubt.
I ascribe it to that good old inferiority complex which I use to keep my SUPeriority complex in check. You'd think that was a joke, but no. I think I'm pretty awesome. I also think I suck horribly. The two tend to balance each other out. At least, I think they do.
Publicly, I think more of the inferiority tendencies tend to leak out in a more visible fashion. I tend to keep my hubris inside and hidden. I think it lets me keep my friendships. Not that I think I'm better than my friends, but when I turn my filter off, I'm afraid I'm going to piss them off no end.
Maybe that does them a disservice. Maybe that does ME a disservice.
Either way, it's how I cope.
So, back to the main point... I like to think I'm a writer.
As such, with the help of a few friends and comrades, I participated in this year's (2012) NaNoWriMo Challenge.
Not won, as in "I was Tobey Macguire in Wonderboys." Hopefully, in that equation, I'm somehow Michael Douglas' character. Not only because I want to plant my thumb firmly in John-Boy's craw, but also because I'm always looking for complicated love.
Or just any love, really.
Maybe I'm more like Robert Downey in that film?
Anyway, I've won NaNoWriMo... and that means that I've completed a 50k+ word first draft.
It feels like a monumental accomplishment, because I've never managed to finish a novel project in the decades I've been writing creatively. Don't let that "decades" bit fool you, as I've been writing drek from a very young age.
It also feels like utter filth, because every time I read it, I see nothing monumental or thought provoking about it. It's genre. It's simple. It's built to be sold, a dime novel.
These two facts make me immensely happy and horribly sad.
But I'm okay with that.