2005 was the first year I participated in the National Novel Writing Month, and I won. My prize was a bunch of pixels arranged in a way that showed I had written 50,000 words in a month. Twenty days, to be specific.
In 2006 I tried again, and failed, reaching only… what was it? About 35,000 words, I think. I blame my failure on getting a NaNoWriMo t-shirt and a coffee cup. Or that’s what I would say if I believed in jinxes. And I do.
In 2007 I did it again, but no oops. I succeeded in writing well over 50,000 words, and not only that, I actually finished my story, something naughty about giantesses and little men (actually, that’s what all my NaNoWriMo stories are about). Finishing stories hasn’t been something I’m proficient at. I’ve begun dozens, so reaching the middle and then the end felt pretty spectacular.
I never got around to editing it, but that’s another story.
The image above is my NaNo graph found on my profile, or the one I had all those years because I haven’t gone back to the website to refresh my account. I’m not doing it this year—writing 50,000 words—as I have no time. I’m working on building my first website and that means no time for anything else, not even this blog.
Yet I manage to post something here pretty much every day… for now, anyway.
Writing over 1,600 words every day doesn’t sound like very much, but I know how obsessed I get with the event, so that I seem possessed by whatever I’m writing and other things in my life run the risk of falling by the wayside.
Still, I feel a slight ache in my heart, and an itch in my brain, and both are telling me my fingers were waiting for November. Sorry, little digits. As Oogie Boogie said, you ain’t going nowhere.