For those who are not in the know November has for some reason been dubbed National Novel Writing Month. This was shortened to NaNoWriMo and is a pretty big thing. The goal is to write 50,000 words in the course of a month. That usually works out to somewhere between 1600 and 2000 words a day. There are support groups nationally and locally. All in all this author finds it a very useful support system, especially when one needs inspiration to just knuckle down and write.
Even if an author does not finish the 50,000 it often gets the creative juices flowing and can lead to surprising twists.
An author sits in the cab of a truck that has seen more years than most human have by the time their children are in grade school. The afternoon sun slants through the trees and lights the surrounding fields with a warm golden glow. A half grown cow tosses its shaggy black head and lowes, sending a fog of glittering breath into the November air. The author's fingers flicker over the keyboard of a laptop in fits and starts as the muse shivers in the cold air.
"Rev it up Sam!" The shout comes from the bulky youth standing next to a man in an oxygen mask beside a yellow barn.
The author sets the laptop to the side of the spacious cab and settles firmly into the drivers seat. A hand reaches out the window to smack the door repeatedly. A brief flurry of hand signals is exchanged with the youth. The powerful engine roars to life and the trailer backs smoothly up to the barn door.
"Laryngitis," the youth explains to the confused farmer as they start to load the hay. "But I can't back a trailer so we both had to come anyway."
True story!
Even if an author does not finish the 50,000 it often gets the creative juices flowing and can lead to surprising twists.
An author sits in the cab of a truck that has seen more years than most human have by the time their children are in grade school. The afternoon sun slants through the trees and lights the surrounding fields with a warm golden glow. A half grown cow tosses its shaggy black head and lowes, sending a fog of glittering breath into the November air. The author's fingers flicker over the keyboard of a laptop in fits and starts as the muse shivers in the cold air.
"Rev it up Sam!" The shout comes from the bulky youth standing next to a man in an oxygen mask beside a yellow barn.
The author sets the laptop to the side of the spacious cab and settles firmly into the drivers seat. A hand reaches out the window to smack the door repeatedly. A brief flurry of hand signals is exchanged with the youth. The powerful engine roars to life and the trailer backs smoothly up to the barn door.
"Laryngitis," the youth explains to the confused farmer as they start to load the hay. "But I can't back a trailer so we both had to come anyway."
True story!
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