On Randomness

Because it's entertaining, if not encouraging to writers with slightly higher standards, here is the most random thing I wrote today:

It was a path. Excellent. At least I wouldn't get lost in the woods and eaten by rabid elves.

And now you know the bitter truth about writing Nanowrimo. Sometimes it's easier to rack up the word count if you just go on autopilot and let your subconscious take over. Apparently, my subconscious is worried about cannibalistic magical creatures.

Should I go to counseling for that?

Art Imitating Life

And today's winner for best proof of writing what you know is:

"She smelled slightly of a damp sock left too long at the bottom of a laundry pile."

Yup! I need to do laundry.*

And in case you were wondering, that is the hero describing the heroine. Not exactly a romantic observation, is it? Hard to believe he actually kisses her less than two paragraphs later. I hope she brushed her teeth!

*To clarify, I don't smell like a damp sock but my bedroom definitely does.

Look! Look!

Cover and synopsis to the right. Now if only I put this much energy into actual writing...

So far, so good.

We're only one day into November, but I'm feeling optimistic about where I'm at. Definitely not hitting the 4k mark today (I just kind of hit a wall. I don't even have a good excuse.) but I'm still ahead of the game from a sheer numbers standpoint.

What's even better, I finally figured out a full fledged plot. It's still crap, but it feels good to be steering this old literary bus somewhere besides random word oblivion.