It is the month of noveling dangerously. National Novel Writing Month started ten and a half hours ago, and so far all I’ve written is the previous sentence and a half.
Plots? I don’t got ’em. Since I’m currently on a fast until I get blood drawn in a couple of hours, I’m not phantastically likely to get a novel started in the next few minutes. I keep looking at the refrigerator, and there aren’t any plot twists in there.
On the other hand, if it weren’t for NaNo, I might never have written a novel in the first place — it has a way of kicking you out of the way of yourself. Their message is simple: you can do this thing, and it doesn’t have to be all that good. You just have to do it. Nobody is watching, except you. There are no critics, only motivation.
It’s like a gym for fat women, with no mirrored guilt or judgment, all enthusiasm and that feathered thing of hope. Cue Richard Simmons…
Just push it! Push it! Push it!
"Jack Lewis takes the overall literary crown with his new book...there’s a lot more to Lewis’s work than what it feels like to ride motorcycles.” — Ultimate Motorcycling
"Insightful and from the heart ... a driven and much recommended look into the mind and conflict of the next generation of war veterans. " — Midwest Book Review (Reviewer's Choice)
Day 1: Set up Scrivener project file. Create 4 short stories. Get a massage. Type in hastily scrawled notes on three scenes for Story 1. Lay in supplies: firewood, lemon yogurt, whiskey. Look at parts labeled Story 2, Story 3, Story 4. Have no clue what’s going in those parts. Panic.
Feel like the fattest girl in the gym, again.
See you and your raggedy mss at the end of the month. 🙂
You know damn well you’re the prettiest girl at the Jim.