As of this moment, I have 12,250 words written for the NaNoWriMo 2005 novel. That’s exactly one-quarter of the way done, which would seem not too bad if this weren’t almost one-half the way through the month.
I completely stymied myself yesterday. Had many hours set aside in which to write, sat at the computer most of the day, and yet didn’t write word one.
I did review a few select pages from several classic pulp novels by Chandler, Hammett, and others, and from several chick lit novels. (I am coming to love that Look Inside feature at Amazon.) I went back and forth, back and forth on whether I really do want to write a book that tries to meld the genres. Fact is, Janet Evanovich is doing exactly that (writing such books, not wasting valuable time worrying about whether it’s a good idea). So it can be done, and it’s fine and fun, and there’s no reason for me to sit around fretting. Yet fret I did.
Also this weekend though, I had a brush with writing fame: I briefly met and obtained the autograph of Natalie Goldberg. She’s the author of Writing Down the Bones, and many other works. WRitign Down the Bones was the first writing book I read when I started writing fiction, and I re-read it for inspiration about once a year. It was delightful to bump into her, and having done so reminded me that I’d meant to look back at WDTB again.
So I did read a few sections. Taking its advice, I’m going to try writing in timed increments, not thinking, not correcting, but typing as fast as my fingers and brain will allow. Letting that process free me from my creepy little editors.
And not a moment too soon: Still have 37,750 words to go.