I’ve been a member of NaNoWriMo for three years, but I’ve never participated. The idea of writing 50,000 words in 30 days makes my heart quail and my head itch. It’s now less than four hours away, and my commitment to work on two books seems insane–until I remind myself that the hours I’ll be writing are hours I
might would have wasted goofing off on FaceBook. I’m reminded, inanely, of a fake quote about Disney from Cain in a Bad Lip Reading video: “It’s like a time void, and will probably result in you thinking you’re an angel.” FaceBook has claimed enough of my life.
I’m thinking part of my ritual each day could be to warm up with a blog post, just to remind myself that this is supposed to be fun, that I want to do it, and that it isn’t going to kill me. Too bad these words won’t count toward my total.
100,000 words. That’s about 400 pages.
Not going to think about that.
Just the passion of creation.
And it can’t be insane, not if the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result, right?