I'm not panicking. Really. This is only day five of National Novel Writing Month, right?
There's still 25 glorious days of writing left after today... more than enough time to meet my goal.
Okay, so I only have 1,500 words documented on my new novel project, Terminal Illness (working title) and - according to the daily average of 1,667 words needed to meet the 50K mark by month's end - I'm 6,835 words shy already. And I'm a painfully slow writer, as I documented in a previous post.
But, on the flip side, my villian in Terminal has started to develop nicely and is a whole lot nastier than I originally envisioned. He's the type of guy who peppered you with volleyballs during merciless dodgeball games in high school gym class. The calculating type of individual who'd befriend you, then steal your girlfriend, then continually mock you in front of her - and everyone else - before getting them all to join in your very painful, very public humiliation.
Only now, he's "stepped his game up"...and has weapons and new, more violent means of torture that he's not shy about using.
"I've got that going for me...which is nice."
And a potentially fruitful weekend of writing awaits.
And I'm only a bit delusional.
Ah...another challenging, frustrating and possibly exhilarating NaNo is in full swing and I'm along for the ride. And this is no kiddie ride for certain. This is one of those Six Flags specials that flips your stomach, slams it into your gullet for good measure and then leaves you, at its conclusion, feeling nauseous, dizzy and wondering what in the world possessed you to get on in the first place.
Okay...so maybe it's not quite that bad. But depending on how the next week goes, I may invoke the names of all great living and deceased Begin family procrastinators, asking for their collective blessings in inspiring a surge of creativity down the home stretch.
I'll keep you posted.