Chris Batey, the duke of NaNoWriMo, predicted it would happen: the first week's exuberance fades fast and even though I'm at 17,000 words, the daily grind is already taking its toll. An email communique from eensybeensyspider, maven of the Flint NaNoWriMo group, urgently advised serious hydration. My UMF NaNo buddies and I are cranking it out, baby -- about 65,000 words among us so far -- there's a little novel right there. Our characters are already talking to each other, just as we are beginning to mumble to ourselves. I may be panhandling for MD-40 money by the time this is over. In fact, I'm only writing this now to avoid the empty screen -- I haven't written a NaNoWriMo word yet today.
What the hell. It's all about quantity. So I'm signing off for now to go shovel words into another boiler. As the saying goes, with a mound of horseshit this big there's gotta be a pony in there somewhere. I've got a single bottle of Heineken Dark at my side, and I'm cranking up the iTunes jams. Bye for now.
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