Friday, Nov. 29
Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted to write a novel, so she signed up for this thing called NaNoWriMo, where people from all over come together to support each other’s efforts to not just write a novel, but to write one in 30 days. She took to writing. Making slow, but steady progress.
And then, all of a sudden…there was ONE DAY LEFT!
And this writer (or wannabe) is blogging instead of writing her novel.
The novel crawls out from under the couch.
The mean, overly tired writer just sits at her computer. Sipping coffee (really bad coffee because this stupid writer forgot to fill the water reserve in the coffee maker all the way before brewing). Checking Facebook updates (gratuitous pics of food and family). And searching the internet tirelessly for Monster High ornaments that are either sold out everywhere or available on Amazon and Ebay for basically five times the retail price (sigh).“Help me!” the novel says.
“Help me!” the novel says again, trying to crawl over to it’s writer.
“Go away!” the writer shouts. Sipping crappy coffee.
“But please, you need to finish me…you only have one more day. And you still have 5,616 words to go. Don’t give up now.”
“Bah! I don’t know how to finish you.” The writer looks down, refusing to make eye contact with the novel.
The writer can’t admit that, deep down inside, she doesn’t want to finish the novel. She knows she will miss it when it’s done. Even if she will spend the next several years re-reading it, revising it, cutting and adding scenes. She knows the thrill of the shitty first draft will be over. If she finishes it now.
“Please, mama,” the novel begs, now at her feet as she sits at her desk, typing on the very thing that she used to create this little novel.
And because this writer is a mom, she takes pity on the pathetic little thing lying at her feet, groveling for attention. She pets it’s bald little head, looks at it with sympathetic eyes, considers wrapping it up in a blankie and putting it down for a nap. But then the novel starts screaming. Crying so loud that snot runs down it’s sad little type-face.
“Ohhhh,” the writer says, feeling bad, but unable to tear herself away from the evil internet, full of distractions and pulling her from this living, breathing novel, away from the reality that if she doesn’t finish this thing, no one will.
“Okay little guy, get up here,” she says, pulling the novel onto her lap.
“Yay!” the novel squeals, waving it’s paper-thin little arms up in the air with glee.
The writer, novel in lap, begins typing away. Only time will tell if she’s able to fulfill her destiny and help this novel to live happily ever after…
Stay tuned for updates from the future!
In the meantime, your guess is as good as mine…will she FINISH in time? (And spoiler alert: probably won’t end with a good ol’ Happily Ever After, sorry!)