One Month Until NaNoWriMo

I only remembered today was October first because I have a writing workshop to attend tonight. Shortly after that I realized I have one month to adequately stock my house with red wine, Cheez Its, Hershey bars with almonds, and coffee before the marathon begins. I also have a lot of writing to do this month, because I would like to wrap up the novel I am currently writing as well as a short story that has taken on a life of its own (I love when that happens).

I’m sure there are plenty of people who will participate in NaNoWriMo for their own reasons. Some may have been waiting for the right time to start a novel. Some might not know how to write a novel. Others may want a deadline for completing their project. Personally, I’m in it for the community.

I know a few writers who spend more time talking about writing than actually writing. These are the people who call me up with a fantastic idea for a novel or short story or a blog post or you name it, and yet also have a million excuses why they can’t write it. “I can’t work on that now,” they say. “I have to check Facebook/go to the store/get my kid into the bath/go to work/(fill in the blank).” So, one of the draws of NaNoWriMo is for me to spend time with writers who are writing.

I try to do 1500 words every day anyway, so the NaNoWriMo goal of 1667 is not that much of a reach for me. I do have a specific story I plan to work on in November that I am currently researching. Of course, researching this novel requires reading books with names like “Brand New Name: How to Get a New Identity” so I spend some of my time peering anxiously out the window to make sure the cops are in fact going to the domestic dispute across the street and aren’t coming to question me. (I have to admit to also browsing some rather sketchy websites with topics like “How to Avoid Arrest” and “How to Hide From Law Enforcement.”) It’s a crime novel. What can I say?

If you are participating in NaNoWriMo this year, please feel free to add me as a buddy (kimberly.hill).

What I want to know: what is the most bizarre excuse you have ever heard from someone as to why he or she couldn’t write something? For me it had to be “I can’t write a novel because my husband would have to watch the kids.” (I think my response to that was a reminder that they are her husband’s kids too.) Leave me a comment and tell me the excuses.


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