So in my endless journey preparing myself for my next book, I remembered this little weird word I'd been seeing everywhere on blogs and social media feeds. So what, my dear friends, is NaNoWriMo? I'm not gonna lie; it took me about five long and very strangely worded searched on Google to find this little gem and get the name right. It stands for National Novel Writing Month (why they couldn't have just used NNWM is beyond me, but I guess that nanowrimo is fun to say?).

But I digress. Essentially, you make a profile on the site and it acts as a little support system for you to finish a novel (with a goal of 50,000 words) during the month of November.

I think that this year I'm going to try my hand at this thing. I mean, 50,000 words is rather short in my estimation. I personally think that a satisfying story lies somewhere in the realm of 80k-90k words, unless you're Hemingway or Fitzgerald and can write the next great American novel. Which, let's be honest, isn't going to happen in a month of writing.

But I DO believe that in a month of writing a 50k word book you could make some real progress. It's more about having the drive and supporting yourself and believing that you can do it and get that huge hunk of writing out there. Because let's be honest, folks... nothing is as satisfying as seeing a huge hunk of words that you poured out and shaped into a story. Even if it's unpublished... it feels pretty fucking great.

So if you're struggling to get there, think about hopping over to NaNoWriMo and checking it out. If nothing else, reading the "pep talks" from your favorite authors should be able to cheer you up. Just check out this little blip from one of my faves, Neil Gaiman:

The last novel I wrote (it was ANANSI BOYS, in case you were wondering) when I got three-quarters of the way through I called my agent. I told her how stupid I felt writing something no-one would ever want to read, how thin the characters were, how pointless the plot. I strongly suggested that I was ready to abandon this book and write something else instead, or perhaps I could abandon the book and take up a new life as a landscape gardener, bank-robber, short-order cook or marine biologist. And instead of sympathising or agreeing with me, or blasting me forward with a wave of enthusiasm—or even arguing with me—she simply said, suspiciously cheerfully, “Oh, you’re at that part of the book, are you?”

I was shocked. “You mean I’ve done this before?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “You do this every time you write a novel. But so do all my other clients.”

I didn’t even get to feel unique in my despair.

If that right there doesn't make you feel better about the shit you're writing right now, I don't know what will!! Excuse me while I go and re-evaluate that piece of crap I started a few months ago...

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