In Which We Wish You A Merry NaNo.

It's the first of November, All Saints' Day, Rick Allen's birthday, 12th anniversary of the EU, and Day One of National Novel Writing Month.

At this moment, I'm ambivalent. I wanted to have a concrete story outline by now, a roadmap of sorts, so I wouldn't get lost en route to 50,000 words. Instead, I have only the vaguest idea of how to begin my story, I can't settle on a flavor for it, and I really don't know where it's going, beyond a single climactic scene.

But I know that tonight, I'll sit down with my laptop and my notes and some deli fried chicken, and start in a-typing. I probably won't make it to my daily goal of 2000 words (though I'll try my darnedest), and I probably won't write anything terrific -- but I'll be writing, and that's what matters.

I hereby renounce my intentions to draft a potentially publishable story this November. I grant myself permission to write utter garbage, complete with inconsistencies, useless descriptive passages, and dialogue that leads nowhere. Because what I need as a writer, more than anything else, is practice.

Here we go.