So, if you've been here a bit, you've heard about NaNo. Oh, how you've heard about NaNo. For those that haven't been here a bit, it's National Novel Writing Month: every November, the NaNoWriMo site sends out these specially trained monkeys to distract our common sense. Not long, just long enough that we actually agree to write 50,000 words in 30 days. Then the monkeys fly back to the stable and we're left with the aftermath.
The scary part is, my monkeys didn't come, and I still signed up.
After the first year or two, you don't need monkeys. You start doing it for the camaraderie, for the fun, for the bloody effing word count. All very good reasons, too.
And did I mention the coffee? Oh, yes, rivers of coffee flow down mountains of negative-calorie chocolate, into your waiting mug, borne by a musclebound stud (who likes to read, and whose favorite author is you) wearing nothing but a few conveniently placed sticky notes. Plus, you know, they're good for writing emergency notes on, too.
Okay, fantasy over (until I sign off). Aside from that, NaNo is still fun, it's still worthwhile. I do some of my best long-form writing during NaNo, whether it's November NaNo or Camp NaNo, or just me screwing around with NaNo rules in, like, May or something.
Of course, this all somehow (apparently) qualifies me to part the bookish seas for others. I signed up to be Municipal Liaison for my region. I think I was drugged.
So, do you want to write? Do you want to pass that noveling blockage and open the floodgates on your creativity? Do you think joining NaNoWriMo is the fastest way to shut me up (It's not. That privelege belongs to only a very few things, including those chocolatey, coffee-bearing, mountain men.) ? Run on over to THE SITE (It's important. Everything in all caps is important, right?) and sign up. Like, now.
Later,
Voss
