In a stunningly stupid move, today I impulsively signed up for National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo, for syllable-haters). Their website sums it up best: “National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.” It’s an insane writing marathon that sneers at quality in favour of sheer, overwhelming word quantity. The word count is all that matters.
It’s a daunting challenge, made even more so by the fact that I’m several days late off the starting line, and I have no clue what story I could write. I’ve tried writing a novel before, and made it to 20,000 words before realizing just how much trouble I was in, and by 30,000 words, I would rather have chewed my own fingers off than type another word.
So it’s time to pour another steaming mug of rocket fuel coffee, because here I go again!
