First NaNo Mistake

Last night I went to the midnight write-in for my region. I left the house both emotionally and physically drained so it was little wonder that as soon as I found parking I went searching for a big, steaming cup of coffee. Despite the fact that it was already late, I drank and drank cup after cup.

The write-in was hosted at a local coworking spot which closed long before we showed up. There I continued to drink the java rationalizing that I needed it to stay awake so I could write at midnight. The joint was chilled, and I did nothing but complicate my own problems with nearly two liters of caffeine enriched diuretic bean juice. I was cold to the bone. To Build a Fire cold. Freaking cold despite a layer of wool and an insulating shell over that.

I wrote about 1,000 words fighting of my self inflected hypothermia and regretting my stupidity after the clock struck midnight. I made it until about one in the morning before I felt the first precarious dip in my chemical stimulation. I packed up everything as quickly as I could and made a bee line to my truck. A quick jog around the block helped keep me awake until I pulled into the drive moments later and then my body felt leaden and unusable. Bonking hardcore I crawled under the covers.

And then I stared at the dark ceiling for what seemed an eternity unable to find sleep.

Now I’m up, dressed, and sipping herbal tea. I’m seated at the Rec Center trying desperately to clear my system of last night’s abuses and reading what I banged out on Counterfeit Horizon. Yikes! Talk about crashing the plane before it leaves the tarmac, this is some scary stuff.

Next time, I think I’ll act my age, stick to my patterns, and respect my habits. That was a mistake. Derp derp derp.

NaNo Jitters

I just got back from my first NaNoWriMo kick-off meeting. It was interesting and fun to be in the same room with all those other authors. The pent up creative juice was threatening to spill over the walls and I’m currently writing this blog post because if I don’t I’ll start on my novel.

Counterfeit Horizon┬áis mostly outlined and when I open up the file that organizes all the character sketches and plot information I should not feel these butterflies in my stomach. But they are there nonetheless. It feels in some ways much like starting-line sickness I’ve gotten waiting behind some arbitrary line right before the starting gun signals the go.


I am ready for this. This story will be entertaining and compelling. You will all love the good guys and love to hate the bad guys. And even if you don’t, once its been through editing, you’ll buy a Kindle copy out of pity and because its cheaper than putting loose change in my cup on the corner.

So I’m going to hit the hay for the night, tomorrow I’m going to go back through the outline one more time. I’m going to sleep like a stone, even though there may be snow on the way, because I am the man with a plan. I can trust my planning ability. Today I am on the safe side of the starting line, but soon I will be marking progress with that shuffle-step-stride toward my first novel length story.