Here we are, in the last week of Nano.
I figure some people are saying 'ah, the hell with it' and going off to do other things; then there are more who are wondering if this month of torture will ever end.
Me, I'm currently the latter. I have abused the keyboard most dreadfully, writing with hunched shoulders and a manic gleam in my eye trying to squeeze out words.
Oh, yeah, this has not been easy, regardless of the word count. I've had days were I reached 10,000 words or more before the sun went down, and days were reaching 4,000 was a wretched struggle and I'd be trying to write late into the night.
It's been a month of resisting temptation, of not reading the latest books, of not watching the latest movies, of turning away from the family tree lest the fruit entrance me to linger and wallow in research. Of balancing time between this work and family, who have been remarkably patient with me. And of neighbours looking at me sideways while I try to discover how long you can fight with two swords without your arms dropping off on the balcony. (No, officer, I'm researching a book; yes, officer, I'll do it inside from now on...)
Every year, when I'm done, I swear not to do Nano again. And every year, in October, I get tackled by the plot bunnies, tickled until I give in and yell 'uncle!'. I'll call Sven and Oleg to assist and with renewed vigour, plunge into the murky depths of story writing. I'll swim around until the water clears and start paddling.
So, the last week of NaNo, where most participants will throw up their hands and give up and where happy dances are - as of today - being enjoyed by those canny enough, disciplined enough and persistent enough to reach the 50,000 word goal and beyond.
What will you be? A hand thrower, or a happy dancer?