So it’s that time of year, that most magical time of year. Leaves have turned colors and fallen off the trees. The houses are decorated with spooky things and my daughter is asking when we’re going to carve her pumpkin nine million times an hour.
That magical time of year where I wonder just how long it will take before I cave and get into the Halloween stash. Where I check the levels of beer, whiskey, coffee and other necessities.
In one week, it will be the first of November. In Colorado that’s the first (and last) week of Fall.
It is the day in which a bunch of word-obsessed maniacs hurl themselves, heart and soul, into the masochistic craft of writing a novel.
It’s National Novel Writing Month! 50k words in 30 days. 1700 words a day, for 30 days. If you break it down even more, 500 words at 12pt font is about a page. So just over 3 pages a day.
Madness, lunacy! What’s the point?
You mean, other than the stories themselves? I have no clue. The feeling of satisfaction? Practice? An opportunity to get a first draft done. Learning to accept that sometimes you have to write a whole bunch of shit to figure out how a project works.
Its a contest. So what do you win? You win 50k words towards a finished novel. And a cool sticker for your social media page.
In one week, this shit begins! Don’t let the fuckery keep you down!