Our Daughter is an Octopus

I've been having some weirdo dreams lately. This bodes well for my levels of creativity w/r/t NaNoWriMo in purt near two weeks now. Yeah, I'm gonna do it again, I guess... even though I don't know what makes me think I can write 50,000 words in a month if I can't even keep up with posting a blog entry at least once a week. Of course it's much easier to crank out a piece of crap first draft that nobody else is ever going to see.

As I did the previous two years, I will try to share here about the experience of participating in this weird exercise. Novel Writing Month is, for me, an essentially solo event in which my primary goal is to sit down at a computer keyboard and actually bang out fifty thousand words that tell a more or less sensical fictional story. Some participants, conversely, prefer to pepper the month with activities, furious forum posting, and communal writing parties.

I have a theory that these people tend more towards not finishing a novel by the end of November. But they may have a lot more fun failing than I do sweating out my last 10,000 words on the 31st.