Image by Nicole Turner from Pixabay
This month’s post was supposed to be about reconnecting with the past. I’ve long been in search of a writing community, and recently I thought I’d found a solution. Remembering the excitement and the sense of belonging when participating in Camp NaNoWriMo years ago, I decided to join the April session. I’d set a goal of two pages per day for an edit on my current novel. I’d meet some new writer friends in my virtual tent. It’d be just like old times.
But, as my friend Carrie later said, everything has a lifespan.
Not being on social media, I miss a lot. I didn’t know about the controversies surrounding NaNoWriMo that had plagued the organization for years. Or that they were on the verge of collapse. I only realized it when I went back last month with the intent to set up my April project and found the site a shell of its former self. The pages weren’t easy to navigate, and the most recent activity on the forums was from 2023.
I searched around for articles on NaNoWriMo, catching up with the issues and the unfortunate downfall of what was once such a thriving and supportive writing community. Weeks later, on March 31, an email arrived from the beleagured nonprofit announcing their forthcoming closure.
Another chapter over.
In February I wrote about the shuttering of Amazon’s once promising serialized storytelling platform, Kindle Vella. And I’m beginning to sense a theme to 2025. It feels like so much is ending. Maybe it’s just my nostalgic nature. While the closure of a few writerly sites might not seem like much, to me it’s two more severed threads to a time I look back on with fondness, and a little regret.
I wish I’d connected more with these literary communities when they were still around. I wish I’d worked harder to grow the friendships with people I met in those fleeting spaces. Yet all I can do is keep trying to find new spaces. Because the past is gone.
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