The trick-or-treaters have gone. When the clock strikes midnight, I will begin my sixth year of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Coincidence that the event kicks off at the tail end of a Halloween candy-induced sugar high? I think not.
I’ve managed to hit the 50,000 word goal in all but 2006; yes, I’m using my then-newborn as my excuse for that year. I’ve approached each year a little bit differently. In 2004, I first heard about the contest in late October and more or less winged my way through it. By 2008, I had developed a carefully crafted plot line, researched the topic like a madwoman, and approached the month fully prepared. So which year was easier? 2004. Go figure.
This year, I have a minimum of 10 plot ideas rattling around in my head, none of which is enough to carry me through a full-length novel. That’s why I’ve decided to give up on the planning and plotting so I can wing it, 2004-style.
Yes, this is a form of insanity.
The comedy behind NaNoWriMo, for me, is that my efforts are almost laughably bad. I’m under no illusions that I’m writing the Great American Novel. I do this solely because it exercises my brain in a way that my everyday writing does not. It also reminds me of why I do what I do for a living. I’m really good at professional writing. The words flow effortlessly. The only way that I could get the same result from fiction is if it was written like a case study.
Thanksgiving was the ultimate holiday for her family, and Marie was ready to crack under the pressure. “I thought I was in over my head until a friend recommended the Turkey Baker 4000 to get me through this day,” said Marie. “With its variable-temperature settings, the Turkey Baker 4000 gives me the control and flexibility I need to make meal preparation a snap.”
See what I mean?
The first week will be good. It will be full of promise. The second week will be a nightmare and make me want to quit. If I can push past the 25,000-word mark, week three will be an exercise in absurd subplots. Week four will be the glorious home stretch, the time when the characters start doing their own things and living their own lives. The words will be effortless and the project will be ridiculously fun. That week is why I do this again and again.
So wish me luck as I embark on the next 30 days. I have a feeling that I’m going to need it.

I’m on your side, Alisa. I’m giving it a whirl, for the first time. Maybe along side you I can survive it. Just turn off the brain, right?