The End of a Year
On my birthday in 2011, I got an idea in my head – to write fiction every day for 365 days. It was based on the many 365 projects that I had seen around the web. Some people documented their meals or took pictures of their feet or whatever. I decided to use this idea to get back into something that I really knew I was good at and that I enjoyed doing – writing stories.
For a while, that worked out brilliantly. I think I got all the way to February of 2012 before everything collapsed, but more on that in a bit. During the year, I created worlds – hundreds of people, companies, small towns. I made new histories, societies, and hinted at things that even I wasn’t sure about. I saw the beginnings of new societies and the last throes of the universe, and it was really good fun.
Every night I would come home and start writing. The Boyfriend didn’t really get what I was trying to do – I would try to explain what I was writing, and usually after a few sentences he’d had enough and just wished me Good Luck. Sometimes he suggested I take a day off, or maybe even a weekend. I said no – if I took a day off then I’d take another, and then another. I didn’t want that to happen. In retrospect, all I can say is that I hate when I prove myself right.
I posted everything I came up with, even the ones that imploded halfway through. A few of them were long, multi-day epics and others were flashes of barely half a thousand words. I wrote things for #fridayflash and for the fine people at Worth1000 (who must think I’ve died or something). I blasted my way through NaNoWriMo, something I hadn’t even attempted since 2004 or so. All in all, I probably wrote about 250 entries over the course of the year.
And then the end of the school year approached, with the finely-tuned mental and organizational chaos that only comes in that time and that place. And I was dumb enough to start playing Skyrim, even though I knew – I knew - what it would do to my attention span. February 12th pretty much marks the last regular day of posting. 263 days. A few interruptions due to vacation or illness, but still.
263 days of fiction.
So in the end, how do I judge this experiment? Did I succeed or did I fail?
Believe me, when I started, I didn’t think I would last nearly as long as I did. I figured a few weeks, at best, before I either got distracted or disheartened. Making it as long as I did is a feat unto itself. It helped that kept meticulous records of my progress, filling up several spreadsheets with data. There was one that kept track of the dates and titles and word counts, another for the characters, and a third for world-building. I used mind-mapping software to see how my stories fit together, and even tried drawing some of the characters.
I showed that I could not only build a world, but I could build those connections within the world. I could make a place varied and interesting enough that characters could not only have their own stories, but they could have new and interesting stories with each other. I could examine their backstories and motivations and work out some sense of a future for these people and places. I wrote in a variety of genres and made conscious attempts to write outside my boundaries, both in terms of style, genre, and character.
I did more writing during this year than I have at any time in my life. So in that way, it was a success.
On the other hand, I didn’t make my goal of a full 365 days. The title of the blog proved to be highly inaccurate, and I let my weaknesses overcome me. I know that one of the biggest requirements of a writer is that doing this needs to be the most important thing in his or her life, and I dropped the ball there. I let life get in the way of writing, and even though I’m sure any writer will tell me that these things happen, I still feel a bit bad about it. I made a plan and I failed to follow through with it. That sucks no matter how it happens.
In addition, I gained a small following of readers, people who subscribed to the blog and left very kind comments and feedback, and I feel like I let them down. Not on a George R.R. Martin level of let-down, mind you, but still – I made a promise to these readers, and I did not fulfill it. For that, I sincerely apologize.
On balance, though, I’ll call this a success. I proved that I can dedicate myself to a goal, as long as I am realistic about both its limits and mine. I found where my strengths and weaknesses are as a writer, and worked to improve them. And, most importantly, I built up a body of work that will serve as a foundation for future writing. I think there’s a lot more gold in there than I ever planned on finding, and I’ll mine it as best I can.
If you’ve stuck with me through this year, you have my deepest appreciation. I’ll keep this blog here, and as I pick myself up and dust myself off  I’ll use it as a place to try out new stories and new ideas.
The project isn’t over. It has only changed.
And as any writer will tell you, without change there is no story.
 Perhaps after I’ve removed Skyrim from my computer. With a crowbar if necessary.