Did I say this was a 'humiliating exercise'?

At the time, I had more faith in myself. Not exactly sure why, given my track record thus far. Maybe it has something to do that I've never failed at something I put my mind to...

And therein lies the rub. I haven't made my writing a priority. It still lies somewhere out there in a distant fantasy land.

But with the start of the New Year, I'm once again bucking up and plodding on. Last Saturday, I opened up my latest NaNoWriMo effort and wrote... all of 16 words. (Hey, Tony came home quicker than I expected, and we had to leave.) This morning, I dragged myself out of bed at 6 and forced myself to write 656 words.

Not the daily quota of 1,000 that I'd like to achieve, but I can't keep beating myself up for not meeting my ideal. Better to get it done than to get it perfect. For now.

I've got some new obsessions occupying my time these days, including a renewed passion for tea--discovered during a trip to Taiwan over the holidays. (At one point, I thought I'd chronicle the entire trip with a brand-new blog. Yeah, right... I did take some lovely photos, though.)

In a way, though, the tea seems to support the writing. It just feels right to sit down with a pot of tea, my journal and a good pen--or even my laptop. It's a lovely respite from the madcap pace of everyday life.

The other new obsession, also picked up in Taiwan, is getting my aging fanny into shape. Somehow, I managed to shed those last few pounds I picked up over the holidays last year, and I'm determined to keep them off. So this afternoon, we forced ourselves to get to the gym--despite the piles of work awaiting us.

And you know what? It was still there when we got back.

And so the plot thickens

Another 2,065 words down. Things are starting to happen. Surprising things, both in the story and out.

As I plod along with this plot and these characters, new ideas are cropping up as I go about my "real" life. I'm envisioning dream sequences. And new employees with dark secrets. And the re-emergence of past loves. And savior potential for new loves.

All in all, this writing project is becoming quite fun. In fact, I'm already developing a plan for taking this pile of drivel and transforming it into a work I might actually hawk to an agent or two or 400. (Are there 400 agents in the New York area? Possibly, but I doubt they all handle this genre.)

Although I did experience a slight moral setback last night . . . I've been quite pleased, as anyone can tell who's perusing these entries, with my progress thus far. Have I been perfect? No, but I've been writing. So, last night, after logging my 2,309 words and updating my word count, I started reviewing some of the posts on the NaNoWriMo blog.

Some freaks have already passed 37,000 words. Good grief. More than twice my paltry output. Of course, it's all relative. Some people are stuck at only 9,500 words. And who the hell knows if any of this will ever see public light in finished form? (But one person did post that he or she has already attracted some agent interest. I don't know who or where that individual is, but I know that I hate him. And according to Anne Lamott, such animosity is perfectly normal and natural. So there, whoever you are, you self-righteous jerk. I will never buy your book.)

Hmmm . . . I wonder what this will do to me in the grand world of publishing karma? Most likely nothing at all. I'm sure there are just as many, if not more, fellow writers who would love to wish the same ill will to me if I were ballsy enough to crow about such good fortune.

Now I have only to reach the point where I can achieve such fortune and thereby invite such invective from my literary peers. (What a sad, sick, maladjusted lot we are. Why can't we all get along?)

Anyway, I'm happy. Slowly but surely, I'm eating away at my target wordcount. I made my 14-day minimum. I can start the next week with my head held high. By the end of tomorrow, I should only be 3,000 words off target--easily gained if I maintain my 2,000 word-a-day pace.

So here's to Stephen King, my hero and professional pacesetter.

Still slogging along

Yesterday, I only squeezed in 519 words. Guess I couldn't sustain the hyper-productivity of Saturday.

I had set myself up for an unrealistic goal anyway. I had wanted to reach 20,000 words by yesterday's end. Hah. I didn't really want to spend another five hours or so working on my novel.

Maybe it wouldn't have taken quite that long, but it definitely would have taken at least three. And I was worn out. I know--not an excuse. At least I forced myself to put down those 519.

Today went better. I wrote in my journal and then banged out 1,300 words or so before I tackled the rest of my day. Thought I'd try taking a page out of Michael Masterson's book(s). He encourages everyone to start the day with an activity that will move you toward a life goal. Once you've gotten that under your belt, you'll be more inspired to greater productivity the rest of the day.

Darn if I wasn't incredibly productive today. I blew through several different projects and made ridiculous progress through my mile-long task list.

And then I banged out another 1,000 words in roughly an hour, bringing today's total count to 2,309. I'll take it.

If I put out another 2,000 words tomorrow, I'll at least have met Chris Baty's recommended Week Two minimum. I'm pretty sure that's quite a bit better than I was doing this far into NaNoWriMo 2003. (Talk about ugly. I started Thanksgiving weekend with only 34,000 words. I had to write just over 16,000 words in three days.)

So far, things are going surprisingly well. Not sure if it's because I'm way behind schedule and just haven't hit that brick wall yet, or perhaps I'm simply getting the hang of this "write-anything-even-though-it's-crap" mentality.

Either way, I'm producing like crazy. And I'm feeling way better about myself as a writer than I have in a very long time.

Crossed the 15,000-word mark

Today I had a 4,000-plus word day. 4,040 words, to be exact. Needless to say, I'm quite psyched about this development--especially since I've been lax during the last couple of days.

What can I say? Work and life get in the way.

I got off to a phenomenal start, and then I slipped. I didn't make my first Onerosity deadline, so Tony gets to choose our next play in the city. (No big deal. He's actually been a real sweetheart, and he won't let me wager anything too awful.) I slipped further behind Monday and Tuesday, and then, on Wednesday, I blazed through 3,700-plus words.

Frankly, I shocked myself with that output. Even as I was recording my word count for the day, I had thought I was sitting just shy of 3,000 words.

And now, I've blown past 4,000 in a single day. Not so bad.

Of course, tomorrow reality intrudes. I've got so much work on my plate. But it's so invigorating to make progress on this novel. And incredibly freeing. A plot point occurs to me, and I throw it in. I have no idea where it's going to go or whether I'll be able to shape it into anything worth publishing.

But the fact is, I'm writing. And I'm writing prodigious amounts.

That, my friends, is the object of NaNoWriMo.

Three times a habit?

2,110 words today. Still sick, but I banged out another Stephen King-esque volume. Yay, me!

Of course, this darn cold has seriously interfered with my conference participation, but it's been a matter of priorities. And I'm putting my writing first. Novel. Paying work. And I'm still making progress on the direct response stuff--the direction I want to take my business in the years ahead.

It was harder today than other days. Not exactly sure why. Maybe because I was thinking that the stuff I've written so far isn't really all that bad. I started investing myself in it. Not good.

Today's tip was to aim low. Then I can produce freely, quickly, and I won't be disappointed by the result. Instead, I'll be pleasantly surprised.

I was perhaps taking a bit too much pride in the work produced thus far, both in terms of ease and of quality (which remains dubious). Even so, it's nice to have that word count under my belt. In fact, I only need to produce another 2,100 words by the end of Sunday to be on track--and free of my first "Onerosity" obligation.

I can technically take tomorrow off.

Maybe I will. The funny thing is, I'm really enjoying the time I can bang out my novel. It's exciting. I don't mind trying to snatch a few moments here and there. That's one of the most thrilling aspects of this whole insane project.

In sickness and in health . . .

Woke up this morning feeling just awful. Not surprising, since I didn't fall asleep until almost 2 a.m., and I was feeling wretched by midnight.

So I skipped out on the morning's conference sessions. I worked on my novel instead, and I banged out another 2,116 words. Not sure if I quite averaged 1,000 words per hour. Maybe it was only 850 words or so. But I got it done in less than two-and-a-half hours, despite a couple of distractions.

And so far, it's been a joyous journey of discovery. I have no idea where this is heading. Perhaps the evil creature introduced yesterday isn't wholly evil after all. I'm introducing some interesting theories about the curtain between the real world and the supernatural realm.

Right now, I'm just having fun, thoroughly riding the crest of the Week One wave. My creative sails are full, and I'm charging ahead, racking up extra words each day.

Experience--and my virtual cheerleader, Chris Baty, founder of this annual exercise in insanity--tells me this, too, shall pass, and I will soon dread approaching my computer for fear I have long ago eked out the last drop of my creativity.

Perhaps. For now, I'm going with it. Having fun. Writing. Creating. Feeling fulfilled. Despite the fact that my physical body feels like utter crap.

During the last two days, I have been experiencing the writing life. And I love it.

Off to a phenomenal start

I did it! I woke up this morning at five o'clock, sick as a dog, and I wrote 2,125 words of my novel. I sucked in a deep breath and just plunged right in, somewhere in the middle. And as I went along, I thought, this isn't a bad place to start after all.

And then, because I'm at a copywriting conference, I realized that I could probably start the story several hundred words down . . . But I won't worry about that now because this is National Novel WRITING Month. National Novel EDITING Month doesn't come 'round 'til February. For now, it's all about production, baby.

This morning, I was one screaming writing machine.

Then I went back to bed for some much-needed rest.

Later, when I finally emerged to grab lunch, I squeezed another 76 words in at the sports bar, bringing my total word count to 2,201.

Woohoo! Best of all, this puts me significantly ahead of my daily goal of 1,667. I'm already almost a third of the way through tomorrow's quota.

Not that I'm planning to coast--even though it probably wouldn't be a bad idea. I'm still sick, and I'm writing this entry at 1:30 in the morning.

But this month, I follow the footsteps of Stephen King. The goal is 2,000 words a day. That would actually put me ahead of schedule. But I'm sure something will come up to derail me.

For now, I'm reveling in the sweet taste of success--and the thrill of seeing where my story takes me.

The hair of the dog that bit you

Okay. Anyone who's visited this blog and scanned the entries can see that I'm clearly suffering from serious writer's block. I'd rather rearrange my sock drawer than work on my novel. (And I have. Several times.)

So why am I taking on the 2006 National Novel Writing Month challenge?

Because I need to write. And I'm the kind of writer that needs a deadline.

With only 30 days to crank out 50,000 words, I'll have to write fast and furiously. My inner editor will be lucky if I take time to fix typos.

I know from the last time I did this that you get a feel of almost mystical empowerment when you look up and see that you cranked out more than 1,000 words in one hour. That's a heck of an achievement.

So what if it isn't publishable? Most stuff isn't.

But it's written down. And from there, you can study it, figure out what works, what doesn't, and start the polishing process. (Granted, you can take the polishing too far, but we'll worry about that once I've got a rough draft.)

At this point, I'm too personally invested in my first novel to touch it. If I keep churning out crappy drafts on a regular basis, I won't feel that kind of personal attachment to any one of them. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Let me live in my fool's paradise until November 30. Reality can come crashing down AFTER I've crossed the finish line.