NaNo Crisis: What's the Point?

I'm paraphrasing, but as I browsed the NaNoWriMo-related posts on Facebook today instead of writing, I found a post that almost broke my heart: "I don't see the point in writing this story anymore."

What's the point? If you write a draft this month, you still have to revise it. That could take forever. Then, there's the agent or publisher search--perhaps both. Or, if you self-publish, there's the question of finding an audience, marketing yourself, marketing your book, and maybe nobody will buy it. Or maybe people will buy it, but you won't be great in your lifetime. Maybe you will never be great at all.

So, what's the point?

A few years ago, I was running to catch a subway in New York City. I worked for assholes who lived a block away from work in Manhattan and didn't care about the "little people" like me who had to commute in from the suburbs. If New Jersey Transit was late, it was my job just to wait around with the homeless people for four hours in the morning until the office opened. It's not like my life or time were worth anything.

As I ran down the slippery, crowded, smelly hallway, past bleary eyed commuters, I saw some graffiti on the ceiling: Running late? What's the point? You might just get fired anyway. Give up? Or keep going. You've come this far.

Did I think my job mattered? Actually, it mattered because I was helping people, and they mattered to me. The schlubs I was working for? I couldn't give two fucks about. I was thinking about quitting. Oh boy was I. If I hadn't already reached Penn Station, I probably would have just gone home. What was the point? Doing what I could for who I could because I was there that day, and to the people who understood what I did, it mattered. It didn't matter to some socialite with multiple Masters degrees and a bug up her ass, but it did matter to the people I worked with. So, I finished the day.

I also wrote down thoughts on a novel on my way home, and when I wasn't writing that, I read everything I could get my hands on and fell in love with some amazing new authors. I write to them sometimes, and they have doubts too.

If you have a crisis of faith in what you do, it's a sign that it probably matters.

Why do this thing you're doing? Why do anything?

You get up every day and you do things that matter to other people without question. How can doing this thing you do for yourself because it matters to you need more justification? You do it because you love writing. You do it because you have a story to tell. You do it because your friends are rooting for you. You do it because it involves struggle and that can be beautiful. You do it because you are learning about yourself. And when you finish it, something about the world you live in will never be the same again, and that's a good thing. You knew this book was missing, and you're fixing that.