Pre-Nano restlessness.

I am on the cusp of greatness. Or the opposite of that, I’m not yet sure which. What I do know is that November is mere hours away from taking over my life, and I’m feeling about 83% prepared for it, which is a billion times higher on the preparedness scale than I was last year. And last year I won! I’m not big on math, but I think all the calculations lead to imminent success. 

This year, I’ve got it all: an outline, well-defined characters, and a plot that has to end up at a very specific point. Not to mention all the technology! Last year, all I had was a limited supply of moxy. And technology. I can’t help but doubt myself, though; all this ambition coursing through my weak little veins is glaringly reminiscient of First Day of School Eve, when you’re high on the smell of a brand new Trapper Keeper and the luxury of a clean slate. The world is my oyster. Or maybe my novel is an oyster? I don’t like oysters. I’m in trouble.

I’m also well aware of how quickly things can get out of control. Until I actually reach the 50,000 word landmark I like to call Winnersville, I’m only a few lazy days away from washing up on the shores of Totally Fuckedmonton. I want the anticipation to be over. I want to be in the middle of it, so I’m that much closer to the end. I want a good excuse to carry our iPad around with me wherever I go (which I can assure you will not be far). I want to start. Starting is my specialty. Come on, November.


There’s no “no” in Nanowrimo. Except for that one.

This is the worst possible time for me to be taking on more stuff to do.

I’m working two jobs, which only leaves me without a single day off every week (and that might go soon as well). The rest of the year is going to be all early mornings and no daylight and even less spare time. Participating in National Novel Writing Month is the absolute worst idea I could possibly come up with.

That’s why I’m doing it!

I’ve given it few tries over the years. I’ve failed every time. I was always too busy. But I was definitely less busy than I am now.

To “win” Nanowrimo, a work of at least 50,000 words must be completed during November. That breaks down to around 1,667 words per day. I type 80wpm on a bad day, and when I’m really up for it I can clear 100 easily. When I type it sounds like rainfall. If this were a typing challenge, I’d only need about 20 minutes a day.

It’s the thinking part that will defeat me. Except that it won’t because I’m going to do it this time. And this time, I have my little blue iBook. I already carry an enormous red messenger bag, what difference will a few pounds of antique laptop make in there?

If I can make up reasons to take on such a ridiculous challenge, I can totally make up a novel in a month. Just you wait and see. Except that I probably won’t show it to you because it’s bound to be terrible.