Time to resort to the Maker’s Mark. I’m getting there, by God, I’m getting there. I survived a great Thanksgiving (14 guests), with surreptious trips to the computer. I toiled all of last night. I have been at this computer for the entire day, except for one series of frantic chuppah-related conversations with my family and a trip to the gym to help this nervous energy. I am still going. At this moment, I am at 38,620. I hate my novel. I hate my main character. I hate the cliched and tedious story line. I hate the fact that my narrator and about 12 characters disappeared about 12,000 words ago, and I’m not sure where they are at the moment. I know the motto was “no plot no problem,” but I was better than that. I was supposed to be writing brilliantly, with insightful characters, humorous situations, and just the wittiest dialogue this side of Dorothy Parker, but all I am producing are merely words on a page! I almost found myself cutting three extraneous words, and I thought, what the hell am I doing! So I added three more extraneous words. Oh the agony of nanowrimo. Only five more days after today.
P.S. Check out the particularly biting article on nanowrimo in the Seattle Weekly. It wouldn’t be a Weekly article without an Amazon.com dig. As Adam said, they probably get paid more per slight. This time, however, it’s more annoying, as the only Amazonians he most likely met (other than himself, as he admitted to being a former freelancer for toys or kitchen or something) were those of us at the kickoff night. Screw him and his pathetic word count.
