I’ve been sucked into the vortex again, friends. For the fourth year in the last seven (breaks were necessary due to book contracts), I’m attempting to master the NaNoWriMo beast and it’s not lookin’ good. Oh, the word count is decent and this time I even have an outline not written while asleep, but I’ve developed a medical issue and it’s only a matter of time before I go down for the (word) count.
Day One: My desk is tidy, filled with notepads, extra pencils, leftover Halloween chocolate, a copy of a friend’s book (how did that get over here?), and a fresh carafe of coffee. Birds are singing outside my window and my dog loves me. I whip out the first 1,700 words with ease. This will be a snap.
Day Two: The chocolate is gone. I’m on page 110 of friend’s book, I remind myself to dust the bookshelf, and the dog farted. Another 1,700 words but I’ve started making my main character do stupid things like horrifying children with his rendition of the Chicken Dance at his second grade last-day-of-school party. This may not end well. Is that wine?
Day Four: Good GOD, what happened to my back? My thighs hurt, my hips don’t wiggle anymore, and my butt is on fire. I fear I have the dreaded NaNo Back and no amount of yoga will help. Send help as my dog left me and took the damn wine. Jerk.
Stay tuned. Send Chocolate.