The air, at least in Michigan, is starting to chill. The leaves are turning shades of yellow, orange, and red before drifting to the ground as beautiful corpses that litter our lawns, and then get wet and gross and present rake-breaking eyesores. It is, in short, October. Beautiful, fall-is-here October. Which means next month is November. And as most of those who like to write are aware, November is supposed to be a push to get a (probably shitty) 50k word draft of a novel drafted by partaking in NaNoWriMo.
There’s no hard and fast rule saying you have to participate in NaNoWriMo. But as someone who feels like there is at least one decent novel hidden somewhere in her sleep-deprived brain and shriveled, cynical heart, it is an event which I have attempted a few times, and always feel I should consider.
But not this month. Fuck November! My November is going to be awful. I’m going to be up to my eyeballs in work, struggling valiantly to meet nearly-impossible deadlines while sitting in a cube and feeling my ass grow wider each day because exercise is for people without kids and soul-crushing jobs.
However, theoretically, my December should be calmer. In fact, I’m taking at least two weeks off. So I am setting myself a goal in December, instead – 2k words per day for 2 weeks on whatever. Maybe a novel, maybe some short stories. But I want to write consistently, in addition to keeping my house clean, and keeping my kids fairly happy and well taken care-of.
What about you? Are you torturing yourself in November? Or is November a no-go? If the latter, do you want to push yourself in December, like me?