Current word count: 19,155
You know what’s funny? I hadn’t intended to write anything last night. I was going to take a break and, I dunno, watch a movie or take up knitting or construct box-girder bridges. Instead, I was up until 2AM firing plasma weapons into a rotating energy field. I mean, typing, that’s what meant to write.
I can see good and bad in this. Good, because I’m actually working on stuff. It doesn’t seem to be a chore to do so, and I’m getting ideas. Bad, because it’s going to become an obsession. My hands will itch everytime I’m not using them to type. Someone will say “Good morning” or “Could you pass the salt” and I’ll start thinking, That’s perfect. Some guys who require salt, but there isn’t any where they are. How do they get it? Where is this place, and how did they get there?
As you can see, I’m already doing it. And in that scenario, I probably didn’t pass the salt and the guy got all mad.
This is all quite interesting. I joined the NaNoWriMo thing on a whim, practically at the last minute, thinking I would end up accomplishing zilch. I’d be one of those statistics, you know, “Every year about [X number of] folks sign up for NaNoWriMo, and about [X minus N] actually complete it.” I’d be one of the people in the N group.
Of course, that still might happen. I may run entirely out of gas tomorrow and screech to a halt. I may be running on fumes even as we speak.
But for now, I’m not in the N group yet.