I have survived another Halloween. This year was spent trailing after a Vulcan and a dinosaur, so geek parent is pleased, even with the rain. However, waking up this morning, post sugar crash, I am confronted with the fact that it is now November.
Which means NaNoWriMo.
I am not a personal fan of National Novel Writing Month. Note, I said personal. I think that generally it’s a great idea. A lot of people find it a useful way to achieve butt-in-chair, and that’s great. It just doesn’t work well for me. Which shouldn’t be an issue, right? It’s not something that anyone has to do. But the fact that it exists, that there is so much chatter about it, exerts this sort of subliminal pressure.
Thing is, that write-write-write chant drifts through my head pretty much all year. That’s fine– it’s how the writing gets done, instead of the random internet surfing and lying face down on the floor. I’m just not a fan of having its volume tweaked up. It tends to make me a bit twitchy.
That’s okay though. I’ll get over it. In December.