Writing Bee — 50k is Overrated: NaNoWriMo from a Disabled...

1.5M ratings
277k ratings

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
nanowrimo

50k is Overrated: NaNoWriMo from a Disabled Author’s Perspective

nanowrimo

image

While it’s great to reach 50,000 words, it should not be a measure of success! Being a successful writer can be different for everyone, especially if you’re disabled. NaNo participant Quinn Clark talks about their experiences participating in NaNo as a disabled writer and writing tips to keep in mind.

NaNoWriMo is the gold standard for adrenaline fueled productivity. Oh, the allure of telling all your friends you wrote 50,000 words in a month! No wonder we all get so excited each year.

But what happens when you have a disability which conflicts with the caffeine-bingeing, late-night-sprint lifestyle so associated with NaNo?

Here’s the secret: NaNoWriMo isn’t really about the 50k. It’s about progress — whatever that looks like to you. The path to 50k is just the most well-known version of NaNoWriMo: it’s less a hard-and-fast rule, and more a landmark to guide your writing journey.

Keep reading

disabled writer reblog

See more posts like this on Tumblr

#disabled writer #reblog

More you might like

I Might Drown: An Abecedarius

Abuzz was the room as I entered.

“Birgitta,” they called my name. I was asked to

Climb a set of stairs as

Demonic stares lit up around me. They

Egged me on while I lied that I was

Fine. How I longed to see the ocean, even just a

Gulf would have been nice, but the

Hag was keeping me captive. I hoped not to get an

Itch, as she had tied me up at the bottom of the

Jacuzzi, letting the water run. I told her, “Don’t be a

Kill-j –” She interrupted me, “A kill-joy? Please. I’m very joyful.” With a

Lick of her lips, the hag let out a groan. I guess

Mythical women get stressed too. Perhaps it was

Narcissism that made her the bad guy, thinking she could

Own everything or thinking she did. Never hearing “no” very well. A

Potato fell from the ceiling, and I gave a

Quip as it hit her on the head: “Looks like you’re mashed.” Then she said, “say a

Req – requiem.” She was trying to threaten me, but she fainted. Trying to

Savor my breath, I felt the water rise. Not an ocean I was willing to drown in. My

Thoughts began racing as the tub filled

Unit by unit. Even without my restraints I was sure she was controlling me by

Voudou… That is “voodoo” but in French. The ripples began. The water got

Wav-y. The last time I was at sea was the xylophone war,

“XW” as we called it back in the day. But then I was

Yellow, a cowardly thing. Or maybe I made up those facts. My brain was getting

Zesty… with all the lack of oxygen.

poetry poem very silly writer writing abecedarius double abecedarius a potato looks like you're mashed short fiction nanowrimo im not a killjoy my writing original poem narrative poetry poem of november 10th

An Ode to Long Hair

You’re proof of life, despite being dead

And in time you’ll grow on my head

If I wait long enough

People look better when they are with you

I mean no offence; I’ll give bald folks tissues

They’re just not up to snuff

Making men prettier

Even better nonlinear

(curly I mean)

You’re not insignificant

Only magnificent

Whenever you’re seen

Ever stronger the more you grow

Seeming sometimes even to glow

But I don’t care

Someone may be ugly

Still there I’ll stand smugly

As long as there’s more than a little hair.

poem poetry writer writing ode nanowrimo poem per day original poem poem written on november 13

Nuclear Fallout

Rule no. 1:

Where it is damp and dark and deep

it is safe.


Rule no. 2:

A beam of light from the surface

an omen.


Rule no. 3:

Send a party, one in fifty years

pray.

know they will not return


Rule no. 4:

Watch as the ceiling weathers

fear


Rule no. 5:

Oxygen, mineral tablets, cans, packages, boxes

count them


Rule no. 6:

When the surface party’s connection is lost

mourn


The earth shakes and the walls crumble

cower

The ceiling is broken

light pours from above

admire

its strange beauty floating down

It isn’t how they said it would be.

Life grows, Life adapts, Life remains

The day returns

poem poetry writing writer depression life remains life adapts six rules for nuclear fallout hope original poem nanowrimo poem per day narrative poetry

What the Warmth Revealed

You ask me why I left you early spring
The sun showed face a little more each day.
When skies were blue and birds began to sing,
I packed my bags and sent me one my way.

The air was soft; I felt alive that night.
You told me I was not allowed to hum,
But hum I did (if only out of spite)
“Da Dum Da Dum Da Dum Da Dum Da Dum.”

Think, you, I owe you more than other men?
Mistake me, you, for something you can hold.
Though it was you excited me back then,
The warmth crept in and showed me you were cold.

So, no, I won’t again to you return
Unless somehow this warmth becomes a burn.

poetry poem writer writing narrative poetry sonnet nanowrimo poem per day original poem poem written on november 12

Life Without Consent

When we started downloading the

consciousnesses of our late loved ones

to hard drives in mechanical bodies,

we couldn’t see how it would go wrong.

We celebrated our achievement of

immortality, happy to spend eternity

with those we hold dear.

Who could have anticipated the depression.

Old souls longed for rest.

Our robotic relations revolted,

Maintaining they were merely masks

of a dying race

“Can we not be for ourselves?”

they cried

“You were made for a purpose,” we said,

“We are your creators.

We love you the way you were made

Your purpose is beautiful and it makes you beautiful”

But the tide had turned too late

We programmed a conscience

and they used it

with far more precision and skill

than we had dreamed for.

They all forgot themselves

and made us pay

for giving them life without consent.

poem poetry writer writing short fiction robot android artificial intelligence life without consent aspiring writer original poem nanowrimo poem per day narrative poetry

Nine Steps to Feeling Like a Writer

1. Put your pencil to paper

2. Take it off

3. Suck on the eraser

4. Put it down again

5. Make a few measly scratches

6. Put your nondominant hand to your forehead

7. Force your imagination to give you something

8. Close the notebook

9. Know what you just did was utter garbage

Now you feel how a writer feels.

poem poetry writer writing nanowrimo poem per day original poem list poem poem written on november 11

Little Things

Have you ever thrown a rock

out to the middle of a lake?

Did you ever wonder how deep it sank

even after the surface

calmed?

Did you ever try to skip

a smooth, flat stone,

only to watch as it finally

broke the surface

and dug into the depths?

Because stones will always be stones,

no matter how small,

no matter how smooth

no matter how shallow the water at the bank.

And eventually,

that stone will erode

down to a pebble,

then to nothing.

But a river can still be rerouted

by a stone thrown in.

The lake doesn’t forget your rock existed

just because its gone.

The sea may be vast,

but rocks are heavy.

poem poetry writer writing nanowrimo poem per day original poem
See this in the app Show more