Nay, no wri mo.

Well, I did sign up for NaNoWriMo. And I am working on a something-or-another, in the windows of time when I am not playing trains or cooking macaroni and cheese or nursing Davis or pleading with Davis to stop crying or talking to Noah or making stuff with Grace or watching Sex and the City or having sex in the county or chatting with you people or posting on message boards. I don't know if it will become an actual novel, though. My pace is not exactly a breakneck speed. Maybe a novella. Maybe a long short story. Maybe a short short story. But I love the hook. I'm afraid to tell it, though. What if I jinx it? Maybe when I get more done.

It is November 3rd. Three days down, 27 days remaining. I have written a thousand words. (In all fairness, I didn't actually start until late Wednesday night, though, because of a sick cranky baby.)

At this rate, I will have 14,000 words by the end of November. That isn't a bad start, actually. I may not "win," but if at the end of the month I have something meaty to show for my efforts, I don't think I will be too discouraged. I could pick up the pace, though. I think I agonize over each turn of phrase far too much-- I need to learn to just barf words onto the page, and fix 'em up purdy later.

Also, I met about 1/4 of my readership on Tuesday, and he was really a great guy to hang out with. He nicely ate my bourgeois dinner of chicken pot pie and complimented my dessert of pumpkin pie (100% FROM SCRATCH, GUYS) even though I'm pretty sure it didn't really appeal to him. How polite is that? Also, who has pie for dinner AND dessert? It's way cool hanging out at my house. Come on down.