Archives: NaNoWriMo


Holy crap. I did it again. I spent another whole November writing 50,000 words and now I’m DONE!

This novel adventure would not have been possible without the help and encouragement of a great many people. Without them, I might have actually done a load of laundry this month, or gone to bed before 2 am most nights. Here, then, is my ode to you:

To Thank you for providing me with free endless hours of moody music to be inspired by.

To Purple Bunny Pencil Warmer: You just sat there the whole time and said nothing. No judgment, no harassing me to type faster, no telling me to stop filling out crossword puzzles when I was supposed to be writing. That means a lot to me, buddy.

To the Java Bean in Ballard: Thanks for running one of the most cozy, most relaxed coffee shops in town. I bet you didn’t know I wrote almost 10,000 words in a single Sunday afternoon while tucked into one of your tables, did you? You make a divine London Fog, by the way.

To that damned meowing cat keychain my sister brought home from Iceland…. okay, you made me laugh, damnit. I admit it. I needed you, too.

To Kevin, or John, I can’t remember which one of you now first turned me on to NaNoWriMo: THANK YOU for pushing me to do this.

To Layla and Tara, who talked me through my mid-novel moral quandary about incorporating too much “real life” into a work of fiction: Thank you for being fellow artistic souls and taking this endeavor seriously and shaping it into something real. Your insight was just the thing I needed to keep going.

To Victoria, who urged me on with a mother’s faith that it would all work out if only I just went to my room and typed. You will always be my favorite Cheerleader of the Suburbs.

And finally, To Mr. Burdy. Thank you for being my snack-fetcher, tea-maker, movie-watchin’-in-the-other-room, writer’s-block-solving man-servant, and the recipient of more “Get the hell out of here, can’t you see I’m COMPOSING?” evil stares than I can count.

I can’t promise this thing is going to go anywhere. It may sit on my computer forever and never see the light of an editor’s office. I’m just happy to have committed to something and FINISHED it.

And now, dear Internets, I’m going to watch some TV and paint my nails. In one and a half hours, it’s December. Hoo-freakin’-ray.

Halfway There

Well, happy halfway mark, fellow writers. It’s November 16th, which means that, sitting in computer files all around the world, half baked novels are awaiting their as-of-yet-unthought-of endings.

I’m dragging my feet today because I’m under the weather. It’s making me not want to write, or go to work. About the only thing I can get excited for is the new Bubble Burst game I installed on my phone.

I’m trying to be okay with not filling every second of my day with writing. It’s tough. I feel like I should be dedicating every spare moment of my time to this thing, but there’s also other stuff to do. Stuff like surfing Craigslist on Saturday morning, making a snap decision about a piece of furniture, driving out of town to pick up friends truck to haul said piece of furniture back to house, bug downstairs neighbor (still in pajamas) to haul said piece up the stairs, turn house updside down in attempt to fit new piece of furniture in house, and then decide maybe buying piece of furniture was not the best idea I’ve ever had.

The only part of the house untouched by chaos is Burdy’s half of the office. My part of the office is a minefield of unfinished art projects and boxes full of fabric and sewing paraphernalia, which you have to walk through to get to Burdy’s side, so the poor man has about four square feet all to himself. I did finish hemming all my pants that needed hemming, so at least I won’t be flopping around like a moron in too-long pants this winter. So, you know. Hooray for that.

Here’s something to tide you over till the end of the month:

Bottle from Kirsten Lepore on Vimeo.

It’s National Write Till Your Fingers Bleed Month!

Internets, I have made a contract with myself.

I’m going to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.

That’s right. It’s National Novel Writing Month, and people the world over have agreed to ignore their spouses, hygiene, and housecleaning for thirty days while they sculpt 50,000 words into a quasi-meaningful plot under duress! All for the prize of being able to say, “I wrote a novel in thirty days”. Isn’t that thrilling? Kinda makes you want to run at full speed into a barbed wire fence. Because that would be less painful.

Oh, and in case that wasn’t ambitious enough, I’ve also agreed to post 30 times in 30 days to this blog. Know why? Because it’s also National Blog Writing Month! So, now you get to enjoy the antics of CLH and me (and the Leagues of Indignant Seattlites I live amongst) EVERY DAY for thirty days. Who knows? This could really turn my commitment-phobia around.

The only problem with this whole situation is that I am master dilly-dallier. Tonight, for example, I scoured my pantry for the oldest, hardest legumes I had so that my split pea soup for dinner would require hours of watching the stove (and not my computer screen). I also opted to clean out my spice drawer, catch up on the Oprah show, and paint my nails. All so I wouldn’t have to come in here and write. Clever, huh?

The soup has been simmering for two hours now. CLH wants to know why my vegetarian split pea soup smells so good. Is there ham in it, he asks? No, honey. The secret ingredient is procrastination.