Blank PageAbout a month ago, I mentioned that I was participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I was supposed to write a 50,000 word novel during the Month of November. Well, here we are at the end of November, and I’m sorry to say I didn’t make it. I was about 49,500 words short. But the month wasn’t a total loss. I learned a valuable lesson: I am not a writer.

It’s not the writing that hangs me up so much as the lack of ideas. There’s no point in writing if you don’t have anything to write about. I went through three different novel premises, but I couldn’t make any of them gel. They just weren’t enough to base a book on. It turns out that I’m just not a very creative person.

“But wait,” you say, “you write this comic, which is a true work of art, and gives my life meaning.” First of all, thank you for saying so; that really means a lot. But secondly, the concept for this comic is not mine alone. Al created at least half of the characters, and the story is a collaboration. I am proud of my contributions, but I think they represent the pinnacle of my ability.

This probably sounds really sad, but it’s not. If anything, it’s a relief. I used to aspire to be writer, and regretted that I didn’t major in creative writing in college. For years I’ve been renewing my subscription to a writing magazine, for fear that letting it lapse would mean that I’ve finally given up on my old dream. But I can’t remember the last time I’ve read an issue. I was kidding myself.

I’ve heard that if something is important to you, you make time for it. Otherwise, you make excuses. If I really had the urge to write, I would have. Instead, I just kept putting it off and feeling guilty about it. Now I can let that guilt go. It’s just a matter of accepting my limitations. Sure, it stings a bit, but it will be better in the long run. And I’ll save about $30 a year on magazines!