NaNoWriMo
Every year, I forget that November is National Novel Writing Month, and then remember, too late, when people start talking about it. But this year, I’m writing it down in my calendar to remember for next year. Maybe then I’ll actually write that historical spy novel about itinerant musicians. Then again: today, waiting for the bus after work, I saw a girl ride past on a unicycle; yesterday, in the same place and at the same time, an elderly man passed by, spreading peanut butter onto a piece of bread with a knife while walking. I think there’s enough material for a novel right there.
Well then, my dear, get writing! It may be too late to write a whole novel, but perhaps this year you could have Novella Writing Partial-Month?
All my novels end up being 20 lines long, or less.
At my current rate of output, any NaNoWriMo novella of mine would end up being the same length as Jane’s. Maybe I could call it National Short Prose Poem Writing Month instead.
Hmmnnn……
What was it that led me to believe that the elderly flautist spreading peanut butter onto his bread as he passed on a unicycle was a spy? Could I have known him in a previous …
tap tap tap tap tap …..