In case the turkey- and pilgrim-themed decorations at Walgreens haven’t tipped you off, I will tell you: it’s November. In fact, November is clipping along, and along with it, National Novel Writing Month, which is already a third of the way through. Which means I have no business working on a blog post, which the other eleven months of the year is something I find
excuses pressing reasons to put off, but tonight am using as an inspired tool of procrastination. (My Official NaNo Word Count Goal of the Day has also already been met, thanks in no small part to the gift my NaNo-ing cousin made me of some Trader Joe’s French Roast coffee, yum yum.)
Week Two of NaNoWriMo is notoriously among the more challenging. As faith (or, worse, interest) in your story begins to wane, your characters refuse to get off the couch and go do anything, and you begin to realize that “fifty thousand” is a dastardly synonym for “one million trillion.” Clearly nobody but Superman and maybe Anne Lamott could produce such an absurd ton of words in thirty days, which is suddenly revealed to be the most microscopic measure of time ever. And since there is no visible means by which to achieve this once-friendly goal that now taunts you from afar, there is little point in typing more than, say, fifteen words a year.
Or so it seemed the other day, as I crept along towards my goal of 5,000 words with honest-to-goodness snails in our fish tank looking out and laughing. Continue reading