I am a lousy fiction writer. Each time I’ve tried my hand at it my writing is full of plotless drivel, inane conversation and way too many adjectives. It’s just plain awful. You think I’m just being humble. Number one, humility is not my strong suit. Number two, it really is that bad.
These last couple of months have been different from what I expected and have left me a bit aimless. Usually at this time of year, I’m deciding which charity I’m going to ride for. I start to think about my weekly mileage goals and mull over routes. As it turns out, having a goal or several smaller goals is something I miss.
So, hmmm, what to do with all this time? What to do indeed.
I’m going to write a novel.
You’re horrified and, if you’ve read any of my fictional stuff, rightly so. Well hang on a sec because it gets worse. I’m going to participate in NaNoWriMo and write a novel in a month. I’ll wait while you recover from that statement. Starting November 1st, I’ll start typing with the goal of having 50,000 words or more by November 30th.
A dear friend of mine told me she’d rather gouge her eyes out than write a novel in a month. I like my eyes, but come the middle of November I might be looking for sharp objects.
The thing is, other than an eyeball or two, I have nothing to lose. It’s impossible for my fictional prose to worsen. 1667 words a day can only improve my writing or at the very least help me learn about myself as a writer.
Did I mention that writers who reach 50,000 words get to say they won? I like the sound of being a winner. Yup, I like it a lot.