It's that time of year again, people. Crazy writing weirdos like me have all decided it'd be a good idea to write an entire book in a month. That's 50,000 words in 30 short days. A marathon of typing (carpal tunnel, ah), long nights, and boo-koos of caffeine.
The point is not to poop out brilliance in this timeframe (although that'd be excellent). It's to get it out, allowing the plot dancing around in my head to escape and dance footloose and fancy free on the page.
I attempted this last year, but failed miserably. My plot was as stale as your grandma's toenail.(What?) This year, I hope, it will be different. My goal is not to complete 50,000 words, but to finally start the suspense novel I've been thinking about for the last several weeks...
Grahm supports me better than my best padded bra. He's always encouraging me to write, or helping me plunk out the itty gritties of a plot. I'm blessed to have someone who wants me to do what I love. Hopefully he will still remember all of this when I ignore him for my protagonist this month.
So if you need me, I'll be here. On the couch. Wrapped in my leopard snuggie. With ice cream or pumpkin pie beside me. And I'll be writing, writing away.