Nine

This will be the first of my novel-related posts. In case anyone is reading who doesn't know, I got conned into taking a writing challenge originating on www.nanowrimo.org. The object of the game is to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. Not necessarily a good novel. Just a novel. A done one. This is a very bad idea for me, but also the best idea ever. I have a very hard time writing full speed ahead, and that is the only way I can possibly do this.

I've been trying to stay away from the whining about it, but just now I discovered that what I wrote yesterday (dork that I am, I immediately divided 50,000 by 30 and committed to writing 1666 words per day, which is what I've averaged so far, give or take ten or twenty) didn't save on my thumb drive, and I don't think I backed it up. I can't tell from here because I did the writing at my office.

It doesn't matter that much - I remember what I wrote and I don't think it was all that spectacular, but I feel like I'm only keeping my head above water with it by keeping up with the word count. And I already didn't feel like writing tonight. I can feel myself getting worried about annoying things like plot, arc, completion. I was hoping those things wouldn't start to plague me until, at the earliest, after Thanksgiving. So far I've just been playing with the characters, which is mostly all that interests me anyway. One of my students said, after asking me to read an excerpt of the draft the other day, "Is anything actually going to happen?" It's a fair question, to be sure.

But actually, I don't think it's time for that yet. I'm just getting the hang of writing without a net - of letting go of knowing where things are going. It never seems like a very good idea, but I'm always an easier person to be around when I give this sort of thing a try.