No, I haven’t forgotten about National Novel Writing Month; NaNoWriMo for short. It’s just that I’ve become a bit superstitious, and find myself believing that the one sure way not to get the thing written is to talk about it too much. So, you won’t find me blogging much about the intricacies or directions of the plot, or the development of the characters. Also, there won’t be any bits of the rough draft posted here or anywhere else. Nobody’s seeing this baby until I’ve got it in a place where it’s ready for public consumption; if it’s ever ready for public consumption. My main goal is to get the thing written and hit the 50K word goal before the end of November.
I’ve got the story outlined and the characters sketched out. All that’s left to do now is start writing it. The big challenge will be not undermining my own confidence. There are times when I think I haven’t lived enough, seen enough, or done enough to have any real stories to tell. At least part of that comes from reading other peoples’ stuff. I just finished the first piece of fiction I’ve picked up in years — Stephen Elliott’s A Life Without Consequences — and as usual found myself asking, “do I have this kind of writing in me?” I used to, or I used to think I did. Now I guess I’ll find out.
At midnight, the train leaves the station, and I’ll definitely be on it. Whether I reach the destination or not, remains to be seen.