National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) stands tiptoe at my door. It’s a wild month of writing 50,000 words in 30 days and hoping at least
25,000 250 25 of them are good words.
Usually a plot idea strikes me or comes to me in a dream a couple of days before November 1st arrives. This year?
So I’m affectionately calling this year NoIdWhToWriAb. Rolls right off the tongue, right? It stands for No Idea What To Write About and I’m fully embracing the sheer terror of just sitting down at my computer come November 1st and starting to type, hoping that my fingers will transcribe an idea to my brain.
Questions are jostling around in my brain. There’s the big one. What on earth am I going to write about? Insert your suggestions here: _______________________________________________________________________________
Perhaps I could cobble together a novel sort of Mad Libs style wherein you give me stuff and I mash it all together into sentences that kind of make sense.
Will I finally be able to kill off a character this year? Probably not. I like them all too much. Even the jerks.
Will I actually write the ending to the book within those 50,000 words? Probably not. Let’s face it, there are times when somebody just has to die and I just can’t seem to make it happen. Thus I have an unhealthy stack of unfinished novels and undead characters.
Will I ever develop a taste for adverbs? No. Meaty verbs always clobber them and I like it that way.
With 1,666 words a day vying for my time, will the laundry get done? That’s a good one. Does it ever? I may be venturing into an unhealthy definition of ‘clean clothes’.
Will I beat my friend Ed? Yes, my word count will make his word count weep. Sure he’s already got an idea and everything, but what I lack in ideas, I make up for in blind confidence. Sorry, Ed, but you’re going down.
And finally, what songs should I add to my writing playlist this year? Tell me your favorites. Maybe your song will be just the thing that inspires my magnum opus. No pressure or anything.
To my fellow Wrimos, happy writing! And yes, that shirt’s clean enough. Set down the laundry basket and pick up your pen.