Of National Novel Writing Month and Other Paltry Excuses for Not Blogging

Yes I've been gone for MONTHS. Eons, if you will. All 4 of my fans have bitched me out over this. Maybe there's 6 of you. It shouldn't be that hard to lose count with such a teeny number, but there you go, I never said I was good with math. Or with fingers.

I can't really explain just what drained the blogging spirit from me. It could have something to do with that spoiled brat of a cousin that I referred to before, whom I welcomed into my house and whom my parents did everything they could for, only to discover that she was the It Girl of the Ungrateful Entitlement Generation. And I had to spend 7 days carting her ass around Disney World. Earth-shattering trauma, no. Festering thorn in my side, yes. Thankfully she has left my household for good.

Maybe I had an unconscious desire not to jinx the flow of politics in this country, that flow consisting of a heretofore undreamed-of deluge of GOP good old boys shooting themselves in both feet. No, my Karl Rove voodoo doll didn't QUITE produce a "Money's on the dresser, Chocolate" moment but a veritable Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade of page diddling, mistress beating, and Jack Abramoff-ing was satisfying nonetheless.

Currently, I find myself buried in swill of my own making, brought on by National Novel Writing Month (see link in title) A crazy-ass, unrealistic, psychotic exercise, whose main goal is to produce a 50,000 word rough draft of a novel in 30 days. It is particularly good for "one day" novel writers like myself (as in "one day I'll write a novel") as a means of getting the lead out of my ass and just writing. Quantity is the goal, not quality. My evil Inner Editor has been beaten soundly and taken to the hospital, although the dumb twat still calls me from there with the occasional admonition and snorts of scorn and ridicule.

It has been interesting and sometimes even mildly gratifying to see how I can make myself move a story along if I try hard enough (granted, it moves in sporadic, brief, ugly bursts - rather like an unpredictable case of diarrhea). Conversely, it has been humbling to see what quantities and what depths of utter shit I have been able to produce so far. I have been able to keep pace for the most part (1,667 words per day in order to have 50,000 in 30 days) - you can see my progress in the little icon off to the right in the sidebar. To make things worse, I have stuck myself with a problematic, dark and mostly somber plot, which doesn't really suit my deadpan humor skillz at all. Although last night I DID manage to get in a dig about Meg Ryan and Sandra Bullock movies.

So I still may not be around much in the next month or so, with noveling and then holidaying right on the heels of that. But I do really really appreciate all six of you tuning in and giving me your support.

Toodles,
D