Ok, after far too many days of just not getting anything going, not sitting down in front of the computer because I was exhausted or time simply slipped away, I finally did it. I wrote. A whopping 400 words, but I wrote.
And, I'm admittedly a little bit stuck, but I've been stuck before, so I'm not stressing about it. Mom's death rocked me pretty hard, but I'd say that I'm doing good. After all, Tuesday came and went this week, and I didn't crumple into a soggy mess. And I slept. Hard. Which was wonderful!
So, I'm treating my comparatively tiny word count to the corking of a wine bottle. Tonight, I figuratively took out my favorite bottle of red, dusted it off and peeled back the foil. The cork has been removed and I'll let my writing "breathe" for the night. Hopefully tomorrow evening I can take some time to sit down and enjoy. But for now, I'm just happy that I got something done, progressed the story a hair. And, was pleasantly surprised when one of my characters did something I didn't expect. Which was perfect.
Thank you.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Can't Count Days Anymore
Forgive me Father, it's been 11 days since my last post.
Yes, it sounds like confession, but really it isn't, it's just the first thing that popped into my head. Day 25 was the last day I wrote my novel. That was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Monday, I can't even remember much of. Tuesday I'll never forget.
Last Tuesday, November 27th, I headed downstairs to my corner office at 6 am and started my morning pages this way:
"Good Morning Morning Pages. It's Tuesday. Tuesday. Not just any Tuesday, but the Tuesday of all Tuesdays. It's definitely Tuesday. I'm worried about Mom. I haven't heard from her in a few days..."
Little did I know - or is it that I knew exactly - that in about 17 hours two police officers and a clergy would show up at my door, confirming the fear that I had been carrying for days. Mom had died. It's now been 9 days since the "Tuesday of all Tuesdays", and while the shock has faded ( I no longer shake and feel cold all of the time), my heart still hangs heavy in my chest. Not all the time, but it hurts still - and even now. I miss her. Plain and simple. I selfishly feel robbed, but grateful that she can finally have the pain and exhaustion free existence that had been eluding her for 12 years.
The day after the Tuesday of all Tuesdays, the thought entered my head that there is no possible way I can write my novel now. And even as the thought was going through my head, the still voice that sits in the corner patiently told me to not be so hasty. That it's ok to feel that way right now, but at some point, I'll feel differently. My issue was the premise of the story. It is centered around death and what happens afterwards. The day after learning my Mom had passed away, alone in her house, the idea of writing a fiction adventure about death seemed sacrilegious. Or at least down right awful.
My characters respectfully took a leave of absence, they knew better than to intrude on my grieving process. I might lash out at them. Days passed, I cried less often, and at some point Jenna came back, peeking her head through the doorway. She didn't say anything just peeked in, quietly sat down and tried to be invisible. Jake came in shortly later. They didn't say anything for days, just watched me.
Ok, yes, this sounds crazy, but indulge me, will you? It's honestly the way that it feels to me.
Anyway, my characters are being very respectful, giving me time to heal. They know I have my own journey I have to face right now, but I also know that they are growing impatient. They are, after all, teenagers. Weird thing is, I was on a website today, looking for probate lawyers through my work's Employee Assistance Program, and I saw a tab for Scholarships. Feeling like I'd rather look at scholarships and avoid the task of researching a lawyer, I clicked on the tab. And then the most amazing thing happened. Jake was there. Remember when I was creating my characters and I said that I searched for their pictures on Google? Well, apparently the guy, my Jake, who's picture I found on Google, must be a stock photo model or something because he was on that scholarship page. I don't believe in coincidences. That was nothing short of amazing.
And it's not like I was still stuck on the idea of not finishing my novel, I knew I needed to. I need to finish for me. I need to finish for my husband, my kids, my family and friends who have been so supportive. And definitely for Mom. I fear the swift kick in the butt brought down from heaven if I don't follow through and do what is in me to do.
So what I'm saying is this: I hear you Mom. I hear you Jenna and Jake. And I hear you, Great Creator. I will finish my novel. I can't promise I'm going to be able to write nearly every day, at least not right now. But I do promise to write it with honestly, with an open heart, and with the best of my abilities. I do this with honor.
Thank you.
Yes, it sounds like confession, but really it isn't, it's just the first thing that popped into my head. Day 25 was the last day I wrote my novel. That was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Monday, I can't even remember much of. Tuesday I'll never forget.
Last Tuesday, November 27th, I headed downstairs to my corner office at 6 am and started my morning pages this way:
"Good Morning Morning Pages. It's Tuesday. Tuesday. Not just any Tuesday, but the Tuesday of all Tuesdays. It's definitely Tuesday. I'm worried about Mom. I haven't heard from her in a few days..."
Little did I know - or is it that I knew exactly - that in about 17 hours two police officers and a clergy would show up at my door, confirming the fear that I had been carrying for days. Mom had died. It's now been 9 days since the "Tuesday of all Tuesdays", and while the shock has faded ( I no longer shake and feel cold all of the time), my heart still hangs heavy in my chest. Not all the time, but it hurts still - and even now. I miss her. Plain and simple. I selfishly feel robbed, but grateful that she can finally have the pain and exhaustion free existence that had been eluding her for 12 years.
The day after the Tuesday of all Tuesdays, the thought entered my head that there is no possible way I can write my novel now. And even as the thought was going through my head, the still voice that sits in the corner patiently told me to not be so hasty. That it's ok to feel that way right now, but at some point, I'll feel differently. My issue was the premise of the story. It is centered around death and what happens afterwards. The day after learning my Mom had passed away, alone in her house, the idea of writing a fiction adventure about death seemed sacrilegious. Or at least down right awful.
My characters respectfully took a leave of absence, they knew better than to intrude on my grieving process. I might lash out at them. Days passed, I cried less often, and at some point Jenna came back, peeking her head through the doorway. She didn't say anything just peeked in, quietly sat down and tried to be invisible. Jake came in shortly later. They didn't say anything for days, just watched me.
Ok, yes, this sounds crazy, but indulge me, will you? It's honestly the way that it feels to me.
Anyway, my characters are being very respectful, giving me time to heal. They know I have my own journey I have to face right now, but I also know that they are growing impatient. They are, after all, teenagers. Weird thing is, I was on a website today, looking for probate lawyers through my work's Employee Assistance Program, and I saw a tab for Scholarships. Feeling like I'd rather look at scholarships and avoid the task of researching a lawyer, I clicked on the tab. And then the most amazing thing happened. Jake was there. Remember when I was creating my characters and I said that I searched for their pictures on Google? Well, apparently the guy, my Jake, who's picture I found on Google, must be a stock photo model or something because he was on that scholarship page. I don't believe in coincidences. That was nothing short of amazing.
And it's not like I was still stuck on the idea of not finishing my novel, I knew I needed to. I need to finish for me. I need to finish for my husband, my kids, my family and friends who have been so supportive. And definitely for Mom. I fear the swift kick in the butt brought down from heaven if I don't follow through and do what is in me to do.
So what I'm saying is this: I hear you Mom. I hear you Jenna and Jake. And I hear you, Great Creator. I will finish my novel. I can't promise I'm going to be able to write nearly every day, at least not right now. But I do promise to write it with honestly, with an open heart, and with the best of my abilities. I do this with honor.
Thank you.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Day 25: I Won!! Or Did I?
I have to admit, when I originally set out on this quest to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days, I was thinking I was doing just that. I thought, heck yeah - I should be able to do that, if I concentrate, stay motivated and believe in myself, I can do it! And I did. Absolutely.
Around noon on Day 24, I hit the 50,000 word mark! I was engrossed in a pretty intense scene, it was coming together, I was having fun. Then, out of the corner of my eye, a little ballon pops up in the corner of my Scrivener page that says "Project Target of 50,000 words reached."
Holy Shit! I did it! I reached the 50k mark! Which in NaNoWriMo terms, means I WON! Since November 1st, I never had a doubt that I would reach it. I may have had doubts about the quality of work, but never that I wouldn't be able to make that mark. Still, the rush of adrenaline that I felt was ... well, nothing short of fabulous! I finished the scene that I was working on, then went downstairs and did a happy dance in the kitchen and high fived my husband and son. I celebrated with tasty turkey soup and hot chocolate and then went back upstairs to write some more.
After all, the story isn't finished yet.
Which now brings me to my next point. Why, NaNoWriMo, did you choose 50k as the word count? I read somewhere that they chose that amount because it was the average length of a novel. Really? All the places that I've researched, as well as my Scrivener program, says that a 50k word count equates to roughly 140 paperback pages. I don't know about you, but I have no idea the last time I read something that was only 140 pages. Maybe "Because of Winn Dixie", who's target audience is grade school.
And now for the honesty bit. I am feeling disappointed. I believed that 50k was the average novel length and that my story was probably going to have to be 2-3 books. And I was good with that. But now, if all the other sources are correct, I can probably fit it all into one without any problem. Which is ok, I just thought I was nearing the end of an actual novel. Anyway, I feel like I was being delusional when I thought I would write a novel in one month. Nope. That didn't happen.
That being said, here's some more honesty for you. Regardless of my lower lip extending out in a 5 year old's pout, I am still completely in love with writing this novel! Yes, there have been times when I felt stuck, like the story was coming out like a sideways birth, but more often than not, it's incredibly fun! I love the world of stories! I love watching them unfold, enjoying the journey, discovering the truths and the lies. Right now, no matter what happens with this novel or anything else I do or don't do in the future, I am contributing to this process. I laid awake in bed this morning thinking about my story like I do any book that I'm reading but haven't finished yet. My characters are living to me. Their situation, while definitely fantasy, is real to me. The only thing that's different is that I'm the one at the keyboard. It's my fingers that are striking the keys. I am making a contribution to a world that I love. And for that I am eternally grateful!
So what now? I figure a more realistic word count is somewhere in the neighborhood of 100k words. If I did 50k in 24 days could I finish by Dec 31st? Yeah, I think that might be pushing it. I had a vacation and a four day weekend in November. December has one extra day off which I will likely not be writing through. The month is consumed with my favorite holiday of the year. But, being the accomplishment oriented gal that I am, I know I need to set a new target, so might as well do that one. If my story wraps up before the 100k words, or if it's almost but not quite there at 100k, that's cool. I'd rather have a target than some malleable, free floating idea or a "someday" thing.
And when I type the figurative "The End", I can officially call myself a novelist. And there will be cake!
Around noon on Day 24, I hit the 50,000 word mark! I was engrossed in a pretty intense scene, it was coming together, I was having fun. Then, out of the corner of my eye, a little ballon pops up in the corner of my Scrivener page that says "Project Target of 50,000 words reached."Holy Shit! I did it! I reached the 50k mark! Which in NaNoWriMo terms, means I WON! Since November 1st, I never had a doubt that I would reach it. I may have had doubts about the quality of work, but never that I wouldn't be able to make that mark. Still, the rush of adrenaline that I felt was ... well, nothing short of fabulous! I finished the scene that I was working on, then went downstairs and did a happy dance in the kitchen and high fived my husband and son. I celebrated with tasty turkey soup and hot chocolate and then went back upstairs to write some more.
After all, the story isn't finished yet.
Which now brings me to my next point. Why, NaNoWriMo, did you choose 50k as the word count? I read somewhere that they chose that amount because it was the average length of a novel. Really? All the places that I've researched, as well as my Scrivener program, says that a 50k word count equates to roughly 140 paperback pages. I don't know about you, but I have no idea the last time I read something that was only 140 pages. Maybe "Because of Winn Dixie", who's target audience is grade school.
And now for the honesty bit. I am feeling disappointed. I believed that 50k was the average novel length and that my story was probably going to have to be 2-3 books. And I was good with that. But now, if all the other sources are correct, I can probably fit it all into one without any problem. Which is ok, I just thought I was nearing the end of an actual novel. Anyway, I feel like I was being delusional when I thought I would write a novel in one month. Nope. That didn't happen.
That being said, here's some more honesty for you. Regardless of my lower lip extending out in a 5 year old's pout, I am still completely in love with writing this novel! Yes, there have been times when I felt stuck, like the story was coming out like a sideways birth, but more often than not, it's incredibly fun! I love the world of stories! I love watching them unfold, enjoying the journey, discovering the truths and the lies. Right now, no matter what happens with this novel or anything else I do or don't do in the future, I am contributing to this process. I laid awake in bed this morning thinking about my story like I do any book that I'm reading but haven't finished yet. My characters are living to me. Their situation, while definitely fantasy, is real to me. The only thing that's different is that I'm the one at the keyboard. It's my fingers that are striking the keys. I am making a contribution to a world that I love. And for that I am eternally grateful!
So what now? I figure a more realistic word count is somewhere in the neighborhood of 100k words. If I did 50k in 24 days could I finish by Dec 31st? Yeah, I think that might be pushing it. I had a vacation and a four day weekend in November. December has one extra day off which I will likely not be writing through. The month is consumed with my favorite holiday of the year. But, being the accomplishment oriented gal that I am, I know I need to set a new target, so might as well do that one. If my story wraps up before the 100k words, or if it's almost but not quite there at 100k, that's cool. I'd rather have a target than some malleable, free floating idea or a "someday" thing.
And when I type the figurative "The End", I can officially call myself a novelist. And there will be cake!
Monday, November 19, 2012
Day 19: Stuck or Fine?
It seems to me someone, somewhere had said that writing a novel is a manic process. And if they didn't, I'm saying now. Someone else can quote me. Or not.
Here's the thing, at times the story flows and I'm just along for the ride. My characters know exactly what to do and say, situations make perfect sense and I don't even realize that I'm typing. I'm reading. That's how smooth it goes. Other times I put my characters in a room, or on a mountain top, and they look at me like I'm a complete idiot. I might have said that before. It simply bears repeating. Anyway, the story doesn't flow. It's staccato. It's sharp, jagged phrases that come out arthritic. Today, my writing definitely needed some Icy-Hot. Arthritis all over the place.
It's felt like that for days now. I don't know what's going on. I feel like I'm definitely in a slump, one that is irritating the crap out of me. I'm getting words in, the story is progressing, but it's like yanking a baby out of the womb who's too comfy to leave. It comes out kicking, screaming and just generally pissed off. Where's my gentle water birth? Ok. Maybe that's a bad metaphor. See what I mean?
I've taken the time to go back and read over these painful scenes, and honestly, they're not half bad. I wouldn't call them brilliant by a long shot, but there's some goods in there. So what's the deal? Is my writing stuck or is fine and it just hard right now because it can't always be like I'm reading? Maybe.
It also bothers me that I can't tell how close I am to the end of the story. Do I split it in two-three stories or do I try to fit it all into one. Have I said that before, too? Again, maybe. I feel like I'm thinking in circles and writing in triangles. If that makes any since. It probably doesn't.
I'm going to bed.
Today's Word Count: 1,476
Total November: 43,599
Words to Hit 50k: 6,401
P.S. If you run into my characters on the street, please tell them to be nice to me. I'm trying really hard.
Here's the thing, at times the story flows and I'm just along for the ride. My characters know exactly what to do and say, situations make perfect sense and I don't even realize that I'm typing. I'm reading. That's how smooth it goes. Other times I put my characters in a room, or on a mountain top, and they look at me like I'm a complete idiot. I might have said that before. It simply bears repeating. Anyway, the story doesn't flow. It's staccato. It's sharp, jagged phrases that come out arthritic. Today, my writing definitely needed some Icy-Hot. Arthritis all over the place.
It's felt like that for days now. I don't know what's going on. I feel like I'm definitely in a slump, one that is irritating the crap out of me. I'm getting words in, the story is progressing, but it's like yanking a baby out of the womb who's too comfy to leave. It comes out kicking, screaming and just generally pissed off. Where's my gentle water birth? Ok. Maybe that's a bad metaphor. See what I mean?
I've taken the time to go back and read over these painful scenes, and honestly, they're not half bad. I wouldn't call them brilliant by a long shot, but there's some goods in there. So what's the deal? Is my writing stuck or is fine and it just hard right now because it can't always be like I'm reading? Maybe.
It also bothers me that I can't tell how close I am to the end of the story. Do I split it in two-three stories or do I try to fit it all into one. Have I said that before, too? Again, maybe. I feel like I'm thinking in circles and writing in triangles. If that makes any since. It probably doesn't.
I'm going to bed.
Today's Word Count: 1,476
Total November: 43,599
Words to Hit 50k: 6,401
P.S. If you run into my characters on the street, please tell them to be nice to me. I'm trying really hard.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Day 15: Reflection
Ok, after a rough morning, I did get some writing going. My characters are out of their slump and stuff is starting to happen again. The idea that my story has holes right now really bugs me though, and I can't help but think I would have been better off with a stronger outline, one that goes into more detail about the ins and outs of what's happening in the story. Less of a skeleton. It needed some meat. But, not much I can do about that now, but move forward and catch it all on the rewrite.
I can't help but wonder how this works for "real" authors. The ones that are privileged to call this their vocation. The ones that stay home to write, that create novels, rework them, send them to their breathlessly waiting editor. How much do they accomplish in a day? I remember reading one that said that her goal was 600 words a day. Ok, so that was her minimum, but seriously? That makes me wonder if I'm writing crap or if I'm just able to pour a bunch out - prolific. Maybe it's both? Eh...
Today I wrote just over 3k words. I had this idea in my head that if I stayed home, didn't leave for work, I would write tons. All that time, typing. It just didn't work that way. I run into walls, I try to tell my characters what to do and they look at me like I'm dumb. I write something I really like, then stare at the screen for a half hour before I realize that I don't "have" it at the moment and take a break. I seem to be good for a two hour stretch. And maybe I can fit in two of those two hour stretches if I handle it right. Beyond that, I'm one dried out sponge.
Oh well, what can I do? I know there's no right or wrong way to do this, but the doing is the important thing. And I have to say, I am having a tremendous amount of fun, even when I'm feeling a bit frustrated. So, there is that!
Today's Word Count: 3,050
Total November Count: 38,692
Words to hit 50,000: 11,308
I can't help but wonder how this works for "real" authors. The ones that are privileged to call this their vocation. The ones that stay home to write, that create novels, rework them, send them to their breathlessly waiting editor. How much do they accomplish in a day? I remember reading one that said that her goal was 600 words a day. Ok, so that was her minimum, but seriously? That makes me wonder if I'm writing crap or if I'm just able to pour a bunch out - prolific. Maybe it's both? Eh...
Today I wrote just over 3k words. I had this idea in my head that if I stayed home, didn't leave for work, I would write tons. All that time, typing. It just didn't work that way. I run into walls, I try to tell my characters what to do and they look at me like I'm dumb. I write something I really like, then stare at the screen for a half hour before I realize that I don't "have" it at the moment and take a break. I seem to be good for a two hour stretch. And maybe I can fit in two of those two hour stretches if I handle it right. Beyond that, I'm one dried out sponge.
Oh well, what can I do? I know there's no right or wrong way to do this, but the doing is the important thing. And I have to say, I am having a tremendous amount of fun, even when I'm feeling a bit frustrated. So, there is that!
Today's Word Count: 3,050
Total November Count: 38,692
Words to hit 50,000: 11,308
Day 15: Morning Grumblings
Even as I sit here writing this post, I know I should be working on my novel. I've made incredible progress, as of last night over 35,000 words in 14 days, and I have to be proud of that! But I feel like my story is in a serious slump and that I've created lame inconsistencies in my plot line. Which is frustrating.
A huge part of me wants to go back and rewrite the last 10,000 or so words, or at least do some serious revising. This is the Soccer Mom I mentioned earlier, who strives for ridiculous perfection, and expects nothing but the best from her little girl. I think my hippie mom is sleeping in, or her head is too foggy to make a strong argument, because she's not being very convincing. Probably a side effect of her laid back nature.
I feel like I should have planned this story out a little bit better. It was going along so great, getting to the fun and adventure part of the story line, my characters were telling me what they wanted, it all made sense - and now they are just foundering in this cabin looking at me like I let them down. "You're the author, what the heck do you want us to do now? You've beaten this idea to death, move on already!"
I hear you, I'm just at a loss of where to go now. Poo.
So, I guess I need to find a new mother in me right now. The one that's encouraging to my soul, the one that whispers in my ear, squeezes my shoulders and says, "You got this, I believe in you."
Come on, inner Mom. Help me out, will you?
A huge part of me wants to go back and rewrite the last 10,000 or so words, or at least do some serious revising. This is the Soccer Mom I mentioned earlier, who strives for ridiculous perfection, and expects nothing but the best from her little girl. I think my hippie mom is sleeping in, or her head is too foggy to make a strong argument, because she's not being very convincing. Probably a side effect of her laid back nature.
I feel like I should have planned this story out a little bit better. It was going along so great, getting to the fun and adventure part of the story line, my characters were telling me what they wanted, it all made sense - and now they are just foundering in this cabin looking at me like I let them down. "You're the author, what the heck do you want us to do now? You've beaten this idea to death, move on already!"
I hear you, I'm just at a loss of where to go now. Poo.
So, I guess I need to find a new mother in me right now. The one that's encouraging to my soul, the one that whispers in my ear, squeezes my shoulders and says, "You got this, I believe in you."
Come on, inner Mom. Help me out, will you?
Monday, November 12, 2012
Day 12: Rituals I Have Adopted
I remember when I bought this desk that I sit at now. It was right before I turned 40. I had a grand idea that this was the year I was going to get serious about writing. I asked my Mom to join in with me, she also has a love of words, and she was turning 65. Perfect. Those were some good milestone birthdays to get some real stuff done!
We wrote some, I think she may have wrote more than me. I kept thinking of getting myself set up, the things I needed to do while writing to create the mood or inspire the muse. It didn't take long for the flame of my newly sparked passion to douse, probably under the weight of lofty expectations. Anyway, the desk became a place that would look at me out of the corner of it's eye, sticking it's tongue out. Yet another reminder that I started something and didn't finish.
Damn it.
However, I can happily report that this is where I do the majority of my writing today. I've reached the halfway point in my novel. This is the furthest I have ever gotten and I have plenty left to say! What thrills me, among other things, is that every word I write, I take my story closer to completion. It's inevitable. Much like when I ran (or rather jog/walked) the marathon the very next year, before I turned 41, there came a point where every step I took was the furthest I had ever gotten. It's exhilarating!
What's also funny is that I've found I've adopted some writing rituals. Much like the things that the "how to" books told me I should, I had unconsciously created some atmosphere at my desk (or of course, what I like to call my Second Floor Office. Because it makes me laugh). When I'm ready to get down to business, I make sure I have a beverage at my side. This is either water, coffee or tea. Surprising to me, this is never wine or beer. It just doesn't seem right. Like drinking and driving. I light a candle because I like the smell. It's winter now and everything is trapped in the house: dinner, dogs, four teenagers. You get the picture. Plus I've been negligent in my cleaning duties. Then I flip on this lamp that shines a bright green light on my face. Don't ask me why, it won't make much sense, but lets just say that it makes me feel comforted. I may roll my stocking feet on a spiky foot massager, take a drink of my tasty beverage, think about what the heck I'm going to do to my characters next and dive in. In about two hours I've likely humiliated, empowered and enlightened them just a bit. My job is done for the moment. I smile, blow out my candle and take a break. Lovely.
Today's Word Count: 4,296
Total for November: 25,820
Words to 50,000 Goal: 24,180
We wrote some, I think she may have wrote more than me. I kept thinking of getting myself set up, the things I needed to do while writing to create the mood or inspire the muse. It didn't take long for the flame of my newly sparked passion to douse, probably under the weight of lofty expectations. Anyway, the desk became a place that would look at me out of the corner of it's eye, sticking it's tongue out. Yet another reminder that I started something and didn't finish.
Damn it.
However, I can happily report that this is where I do the majority of my writing today. I've reached the halfway point in my novel. This is the furthest I have ever gotten and I have plenty left to say! What thrills me, among other things, is that every word I write, I take my story closer to completion. It's inevitable. Much like when I ran (or rather jog/walked) the marathon the very next year, before I turned 41, there came a point where every step I took was the furthest I had ever gotten. It's exhilarating!What's also funny is that I've found I've adopted some writing rituals. Much like the things that the "how to" books told me I should, I had unconsciously created some atmosphere at my desk (or of course, what I like to call my Second Floor Office. Because it makes me laugh). When I'm ready to get down to business, I make sure I have a beverage at my side. This is either water, coffee or tea. Surprising to me, this is never wine or beer. It just doesn't seem right. Like drinking and driving. I light a candle because I like the smell. It's winter now and everything is trapped in the house: dinner, dogs, four teenagers. You get the picture. Plus I've been negligent in my cleaning duties. Then I flip on this lamp that shines a bright green light on my face. Don't ask me why, it won't make much sense, but lets just say that it makes me feel comforted. I may roll my stocking feet on a spiky foot massager, take a drink of my tasty beverage, think about what the heck I'm going to do to my characters next and dive in. In about two hours I've likely humiliated, empowered and enlightened them just a bit. My job is done for the moment. I smile, blow out my candle and take a break. Lovely.
Today's Word Count: 4,296
Total for November: 25,820
Words to 50,000 Goal: 24,180
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