It’s half way through the month and also nearly Christmas. I’m not ready for either the fat man in red with the reindeer fixation or the end of NaNoWriMo, yet both are hurtling towards me like some disaster movie asteroid propelled by a vengeful god on amphetamine.
The novel: well, these are the numbers. Yesterday I wrote 2388 words bringing the total to 41,153. Now if all I was trying to do was write 50,000 words, then I would be feeling pretty good right now. However, I put my hands on my hips, throw back my head and laugh at 50,000 words. Indeed I do, in my most piratical hat. My reasons are two-fold and I will reveal them now.
Firstly, I’m going to need more words than that to get this thing sorted out. It’s the story that keeps on growing, as I realise belatedly that my readers are unlikely to know all the things I know but haven’t got round to writing down yet. It looks like my mythical readers are going to be even more troublesome than my characters. The latter have certainly been looking at me askance lately and saying things along the lines of “that just doesn’t make sense” until I fill in the critical piece of information they need. Honestly, I live under the very yoke of tyranny.
Secondly I feel I have to be honest. I blame my parents, it was the way they raised me. I didn’t sign up for NaNo at first, then, in a fit of exuberance, I thought maybe I would after all. Foolishly I put in my word count total for the novel – but, you see, some of it was already written. About 10,748 words in fact, as at day 3 when I joined. So really I need to write 60,748 to play fair. I will need them though (see Reason the First above, in case you have poor memory or don’t read chronologically) so I think it will be OK in the end. And that, friends, is the definition of the triumph of hope over adversity.
As for Christmas – well, the fat man in red had better send an Ideas Elf pretty soon. Every time I think about 25th December, I blank on what is going to be inside those pretty parcels. Sigoth and I have agreed on a joint gift we can share, so that helps, but the offspring all want a surprise, damn them.
We love to do a big family Christmas. Birthdays are not very special in our house, but Christmas is sacred, in that other sense of “not actually or literally sacred but incredibly important”. When I was a kid my father went into overdrive at Christmas. He loved to play jokes, and would hide small presents around the house then claim he had seen Father Christmas just now, or heard the reindeer on the roof, so I would chase about trying to catch him out. I never believed in FC, you see, because I knew Dad was Father Christmas (he used to dress up and do the Father Christmas in the local dairy in town, as well as the Rotary Club float), and all Fathers Christmas were just men dressing up to confuse gullible kids. Here he is in fact.
It looks like this year Sigoth and I are going to do a frantic rush around town on a Saturday. Yon t’interweb is going to be a friend in need too. I really didn’t expect it to get harder as the children got older!
Any ideas for gifts for a bunch of twenty-somethings of assorted gender would be appreciated.
And yet it’s all downhill from here, my hearty Nanos; write speedily and well.