While there’s still technically a day and a half left for NaNoWriMo, I’m calling it now: I did not successfully complete a draft of a novel in November. I suppose it’s just barely physically possible I’ll write 45,000 words in the next 36 hours, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Especially since Dunkin Donuts is all the way on the other side of town and I’d probably lose the better part of an hour driving there.
I don’t know that I would’ve completed a novel anyway, even if I had written more fervently. The whopping 4,996 words I did write constitute the entire first third of the story. At least according to my initial outline. That’s a 20,000 word short story at best. Or I’m really bad at math and outlining. Also possible, especially given how little I use either.
Not that I’m not writing, though. I’ve just chosen to focus my efforts on a particularly problematic story in my upcoming chapbook (Boy Meets Girl, Kattywompus Press, Spring 2013). I’ve been fighting with this thing for nearly a decade; the earliest draft I can find is dated February 2004. My newest plan of attack is to split the story into two prose poetry/flash pieces. I think it might work.
Hey, remember when I started this new blog and I promised I wouldn’t blather on incessently about the minutiae of my writing habits like every other author on the internet? Suckers.