One novel, one month

November has 30 days in it, so if someone was dumb enough to write a 50,000 word novel in that month, it'd be an average of 1666.666666667 words a day.

And if you're reading this you know how dumb I am. That's right kiddies, November is National Novel Writing Month. A year ago I had this crazy idea that somehow I could write something coherent at a novel's length. A Constant Suicide ended up being about 75,000 words.

So why do it again? Because I love to torture myself.

Just like last year, I've already cheated. I put down about 8,000 words so far in my next book, which still remains unnamed. I've got a lot of research done and scribblings that should be the major scenes in the book. But to be completely fair, I'll have to get at least 50,000 more words that what I started with.

Again I'll post some of the first chapters when they look fairly decent.

Again I'll spend weekends and nights locked inside my apartment writing away.

Again I'll let fictional characters become their own and act accordingly.

Sounds simple, right? No. I've got a bachelor party to go to in the Twin Cities, a wedding in Chicago, moving apartments, skating, two jobs, volunteering, grad school applications and other things to attend to during the month.

Oh, this endeavor will be such sweet, sweet torture. That basically makes me a literary masochist. Whatever. I've done it before and I'll do it again.

Then I have the fun of re-writes to look forward to, which are their own little batch of terror anyway.