So, Nanowrimo ended up dead in the water at day 15, but I've made my peace with that. Still, 4500 words of output in a month is pretty good for me, especially considering none of it had to be MLA formatted.
In two weeks, I will be done my undergrad (assuming my advisers back in Montreal figure out how to do their jobs sometime in the next month). While I CANNOT WAIT to be done with in-text citations and reading journals and the like, a part of me wonders if I will ever have the self-discipline to just sit down and write without the constant threat of looming deadlines. I'm worried that if nobody is holding Chekov's gun to my head, I won't think about books and poems and stories and art the way I do when I'm in school.
I'd like to think that having a whole shit-ton of spare time while I'm looking for my first "real" job will motivate me to work on my novel (which I've theorized the shit out of but haven't touched since August). I'd like to think that I'd put that spare time to good use, even if its not through writing.
But sometimes I think I give myself too much credit.
Facing graduation (fingers crossed) and unemployment begining next month, I have been confronted with how difficult life will be for me if I do try to make it as a novelist, or a freelance writer, or a finger snapping, poetry reading artiste. My head is stuffed full of all these romantic ideas about being a writer, and while I've always known they weren't realistic, I've never had to confront that disparity until now.
There are some things about being a student that I like: making my own schedule, working independently but with a lot of guidance, an excuse to be obsessed by old dead white men. I like being surrounded by people who are eager to learn and excited about art and who still think they really can change the world with theatre.
Well, maybe not that last one.
I'd like to think that I don't have to give those things up just because I wont be on a campus five days a week anymore, but I'm really not sure if I'm just trying to reassure myself.