Something very unexpected has happened during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). It started last week, when in the throes of illness I dragged myself to my keyboard and lived vicariously through my characters. My word count climbed, perhaps not as vigorously as earlier in the month, but nevertheless it climbed, until on November 20th, gasping for breath and begging me to take a break, it hefted itself over the 50,000 word mark.Exhausted and humbled, I stood at the summit and looked at what I had achieved.
And then it happened. It wasn't enough. I wanted more. I wanted to finish this story. I have to finish this story. I owe it to my characters to let them find closure and of course, being the optimist I am, happiness.
I kept writing, and writing, and writing. Today with 60,735 words on the page (10,950 of which I already know I am going to cut), I am two-thirds done with the story. I have every intention of finishing my first novel in December. And I’m actually looking forward to working on the second draft. Can’t wait really. Luckily I get a little over a week off during the holidays.
Maybe we’ll have a tree this year. Maybe not. We’ll see.