It’s hard every year. NaNoWriMo—30 days, 50,000 words. But for three years running, I finished under the deadline, and I had hoped that this year, my fourth year, I would also meet with success. The first day had me especially excited, because I wrote more than the recommended 1,667 for staying on track for the month. I thought, “If I can keep up this enthusiasm, my novel this year will be a snap!”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t keep it up. Writing a novel is hard. By my second day, I had already slacked off significantly. Writing requires thinking, and words. Somehow, I have a hard time coming up with բառեր, especially in English lately. My grammar thought-box don’t work good. My spelling is offal. My chosen story was difficult to sit down and work on, as it didn’t give me much of an escape from my daily life.
This year I was faced with the added challenge of a computer failure halfway through the month. That set me back a few days, and had me racing for the finish.
Luckily, I pulled ahead, and even became a winner a full day ahead of schedule!
Oh dear. You’re going to ask me what my novel was about this year.
Can you believe, it was about a Peace Corps Volunteer who goes to Armenia (nothing like writing what you know!) and the way she affects those around her, even though she ends up ET’ing and going home early. It was totally made up, not about me at all, although you might think it from the description.
Who am I kidding? Everything I’ve ever written has been about me, whether I did it intentionally or not.
Anyway, I consider my novel (Which is called “Unplanned Consequences” (That’s the cover of it that I designed, to the left)) fiction, as I made up the characters and circumstances.
One small story in the novel is not entirely fiction. I thank my friend David for the following anecdote, which I managed to work in, changing only a few small details:
“One day my friend prepared what essentially turned out to be “onion pie.” It was some sort of casserole, but it was too heavy on onions. I don’t remember what it was intended to be, probably not what it ended up being. Ever since then, my body has just rejected onions. I guess that’s the best way to say it. I’m not really allergic, but my body rejects onions. I don’t like mushrooms, either.” Abigail proceeded to pick the onions out of her salad.
And now, I’m kind of tired of writing. So if you’ll excuse me…..
I think the next post may be quite picture-heavy, and about Thanksgiving, which was AWESOME this year, even though I spent many hours huddled over my computer while my friends were doing fun things like papier-mâchéing a cornucopia, and playing blind-folded bowling in the living room.
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