There went that month
I finished Nanowrimo. I’ve learned that I am capable of writing a whole bunch of stuff as far as quantity, but, as far as quality, the result is somewhat lacking. I wrote 50,000 dull, tedious words about a group of boring people who rediscover themselves (but not really). There was more than one night when, a little short on words, I created a meaningless interlude that, though in the same setting and sharing the theme of the central story, had nothing at all to do with the plot. I worked some of those tangents in later, but the whole of his novel was written without a plan and without much care. I guess that the sarcasm and whimsy that I think of as my style take a little bit more work than what I can crank out at that volume. Oh well. I learned some important lessons about writing, and hopefully I’m a better person for it.
Nanowrimo has a word count history, so, rather than let that data go to waste, I plotted it along with the 1700 word per day goal.
Some days I got going pretty good, but those days, as far as the total, only made up for the handful of really bad days rather than putting me over the total goal. I only significantly crossed the green during the last week. I think that was the week when I figured out what I was writing about.