This has been a landmark day. Just after midnight, Morgen and I both crossed the 50,000-word mark in our respective novels, thus making us winners in this year’s National Novel Writing Month (see this post).
I think I can safely say this was some of my worst writing of all time. In keeping with the ethic of the competition, the focus was on quantity rather than quality, so that was pretty much the expected result. I think there were a few glimmers of inspiration here and there, and perhaps at some later date I’ll go through the manuscript, extract those few words, thoughts, and scenes, and make something else out of them. In the meantime, let me offer a quick F.A.Q. on my novel, since so many people have asked:
Q: What’s your novel about?
A: It’s about 50,000 words.
Q: Har har. No, seriously. What’s it about?
A: Hard to say. People have conversations, experience perilous situations, and mostly escape unharmed. Except those who don’t. And then they have more conversations.
Q: Yeah, but can you, like, actually synopsize the plot?
A: There was supposed to be a plot?
Q: Um, yeah. So maybe I could just read it and then I’ll tell you what it’s about.
A: No. You can’t read it. In fact, no one can read it. Ever. It’s that bad.
Q: Oh, come on. I’m sure it’s really good, even though you say it’s bad. Let me just have a quick look.
A: No frackin’ way. You may not read it in a house, with a mouse, in a boat, or with a goat.
Q: On a train, perhaps?
A: Not here, there, or anywhere. Sorry.
I hope that’s been helpful…
Meanwhile, another piece of exciting news today. This afternoon, BART’s lost and found department called to say they had the Moleskine notebook I lost more than five weeks ago. Shocking! I’d given up on it a long time ago. But I finally have it back—none the worse for the wear, either. A nice way to end the month.
