It came out in a drizzle at first then poured out all at once in a massive eruption not unlike that of Mt. St. Helens. I'm sure my creativity could have wiped out villages and encased Yakima in two inches of thick, white ash. In fact, I have it on good authority that it might very well have done just that. Maybe.
Anyway, I have hit 37,000 words this weekend, which means that I am well past the halfway mark (25,000) for Nanowrimo, though I (woe to me!) remain bit short of the halfway point in my actual novel. Now, what am I to do? Should I attempt simply to meet the 50,000 word Nanowrimo goal ("simply," really? Who do I think I'm fooling?) OR actually complete the silly, overly bulky novel? After all, it isn't "National [50,000 Words of a] Novel Writing Month."
Unless, of course, they simply cut out those extra words for the sake of catchiness. Clever marketers that they are...
In any event, I get the terrible, dreadful, awful feeling that my book this year will have to be at least 70,000 words, which means, despite my efforts to get ahead of my word count, I am only just where I need to be in terms of finishing the #%*& book. Alas, alack, I feel that such cruelty of myself toward myself can only be expressed through the random vomiting of four letter words.
So, what thinks thee, gentle reader? Ought I make my goal the 50,000 words or the novel's actual completion? How lofty ought I make my dreams? In short, how much should I spend on liquor this month?
Love to you all, and merry Monday.
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