NaNo NaNo — What?

I’m sure this was a great idea…writing a novel in a month… 

Move Over Sparks...

But I’m not a novel writer.  The most I can handle is maybe a few essays, a poetic word here and there.  Fragments are what I do best.   So why is it that I felt I could write a whole novel—a relatively short one of 50,000 words?   Haven’t a clue at this point, but I’m diligently working away. 

I’m writing by hand which is how I usually compose and have done an estimated word count which I posted on the site.  At the rate I’m working, the calculator says I’ll be done by January 1.  To finish on time in this month of November, I need to write 2,017 words a day for the duration of the month.  That seems rather daunting.   Undeterred, I’m still plugging away.  Will do another word count probably tomorrow.

I’ve figured out how to use dialogue – albeit rather boring dialogue—sort of Nicholas Sparks variety—he said, she said sort of stuff.  I’m using bits of my journal entries as I don’t have time to make up everything.  I’ve worked out the basic premise – more or less.  One thing I’ve noticed is that I don’t write humorously in a novel format.  I don’t know what it is, but I certainly don’t seem to be able to offer any witty repartee.   This is probably because I’ve never written in this format in my life and feel like a stranger in a country where I forgot to bring along my language  immersion CD’s.  I have few bearings—make that none—so I’m floundering along like the proverbial fish out of water.  If I could think of a few more boring metaphors, I’ll be sure to  use them as right now I cannot focus.

Missing Twitter the most it seems followed by Facebook, emails, my friends, family, my life.  This novel-writing on a deadline is lonely work.  The hope that maybe I can finish something spurs me onward.  Maybe I’ll have enough of a manuscript that I can approach someone about publishing it.  My creative nonfiction manuscript is on hold for the moment so if I push myself enough, maybe I’ll have two manuscripts by year’s end.  Or maybe not . . .

I just had to take a break and write something other than my novel.  What a strange sentence that is!  I never thought I’d say something like that.  Write something other than my novel? Ralph Waldo Emerson’s words seem to haunt me though:  “The way to write is to throw your body at the mark when your arrows are spent.”   Hmmmm… all I can say right now is , ” Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” 

Note:  I’m in such dire straits for outside contact I’m even publishing this post and for some reason I want to contact Mork, not Mindy so much, but Mork…definitely.

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