To NaNo or Not to NaNo?

…that is the hypothetical question posed to you all. Hey, at least I think of you as more than a skull, m’kay?

I’ve participated in NaNoWriMo for the past three years now and I’ve never once NOT finished. 2010 was a sci-fi novel, 2011 a short story extravaganza, and 2012 a fantasy novel.

2013 might be…a nothing novel.

Listen, kids, I’m getting married on Halloween and then I’m going to be in Cabo (as in Mexico) for a good chunk of that November on my honeymoon. I can’t just, you know, IGNORE MY HUSBAND, and be all, “one sec, hon, I’m writing when we should be honeymooning. Pool time? How’s about plot time? Sitting on the beach? Only if it’s raining, and I’m imagining a car crash.”

Can I?

In years past, I have slacked off for various reasons — Thanksgiving, my birthday is on the 18th — and have gotten it done. What’s one more? I oftentimes leave it until the last two weeks anyway and write in 10,000 words a day spurts until I sprint toward the finish line.

But on the other hand, I should enjoy myself as a new wife and relax this November, my honeymoon/birthday/Thanksgiving month. In years past, I’ve gotten a little, um, touchy when the deadline approaches. I know, my accent through the computer makes cantankerous sound like touchy.

But then again, I already have an idea!

But then there are the detractors of NaNo, and sometimes I’m really influenced by the random commentators in the intertubes.

But it’s time to write! And November makes me ridiculously productive!

What’s a girl to do? Listen to music, apparently. Or, ride my bike.

UPDATE: I write these things a few days in advance and just this morning (October 16th), I asked Adam what I should do about NaNo and he FULLY INTENDS ON PARTICIPATING. “What else are we gonna do?” I paraphrase for him.

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Oh, November, November, the Month of Novel Writing (and explosions, if you’re into that)

*camera zooms into the back of Emkay’s head; she turns around gracefully like she’s in a 60s sitcom opening*

Oh, hey. What’s that? Oh, nothing. I just have this:
All for a measly month of my otherwise thrilling life

If you don’t know what NaNoWriMo is, it’s an acronym for National Novel Writing Month. (Personally, I like to say na-no-ree-mo instead of na-no-rye-mo, but then again, I do pronounce it as ree-ting instead of rye-ting.* I’m from Colorado and just learned that I have a Colorado accent.) That is, you write 50,000 words in the 30 days of November. (Other than the fifth, that is, which is devoted to vivacious violence and Agent Smith Hugo Weaving. And the 18th, which is devoted to MY BIRTHDAY.) You don’t really get anything, other than sweet badges Boy Scout-style, but it really forces you to sit down and write a lot every day (or, in my case, in sporadic bursts of 6000+ words every Tuesday) and doesn’t allow you to overthink or edit as you go. Which is, really, what I needed.

See, my dear readers, I suffer as a SOB. Whoopsie. I mean, SOP: self-oriented perfectionist. It used to be really bad, but now, I’m actually kind of lazy. But this means that everything must be perfect from the moment it flows from my fingertips and is indelibly inked into the very fabric of my computer. Which is MK code for 30 words every 30 minutes. Or, a sentence that takes an hour, if not longer. It’s exhausting and I get a paragraph done and then feel as if I’ve climbed Everest.

So, NaNoWriMo was an exercise in two things for me:
1.) Writing every single fracking day. Or, at least, every few days. Which is more than I’ve been doing lately.
2.) Writing something new. Which is crazy, because I’ve been writing Gwennie’s story for 10 plus years now.

That’s right. A new novel. About vampires something other than vampires.** It’s science fiction, has the tentative title of “Roam” and stars a crazy Russian girl — dubbed the Main Character — and a cute American boy — dubbed the Love Interest — and their adventures*** thereof. “Adventures” being MK code for messed-up Joss Whedon-like doomed romance, a subplot involving Death herself, communism, a man with a mustache, and people in fedoras. Oh, how I love fedoras.

So, I wasn’t boycotting the Internet again. I wasn’t watching Casper Van “I-Have-Something-In-My-Teeth-Oh-It’s-Just-My-Chin” Dien. I was writing. Legitimately. Film at 9.

*Sarcasm is hard on the Interwebz.+

**Dammit.

***Mathematical! This week, for the make-your-facebook-profile-a-cartoon-character-from-your-childhood-week-for-the-fighting-of-the-child-abuse, I chose Lumpy Space Princess. I contend that I still watch cartoons and therefore am still a child, even though I turned 24 also in November.

+Which is maybe, probably sarcastic in its own right.