Due to being about 14,000 words behind schedule, I have postponed my attempt to write a novel in a month.  I jumped on board at the last minute at the behest of other writers and was gung-ho about the project.  I was just going to write.  I wasn’t going to concern myself with rules, I was just going to get down 2,000 words a day in efforts to get 50,000 words by December.  It is an enormous undertaking and I praise heavily those who’ve been slaving away at your keyboards injesting coffee by the pot.  Onward soldiers, at the end you’ll have written a fucking book.  Not a bad reward for all the endless work.

Instead I’m going to spend November coming up with a story better than the piece of shit one I came up with at the last second and outlining that sucker.  I’ll have it pretty well mapped out on cards and on paper and in my head.  Then the writing can come much easier.  I keep getting hung up, because frankly I don’t know where I’m going and the gas station was out of maps.

Also, I’m going to shoot for 35,000 words.  I’ve never written anything over 10,000 words, so I need a goal I can acheive.  A novella is more my style anyway.

In order to be held accountable since everyone else will have finished writing–the message boards all closed, the sense of comradarie totally absent–I will post a passage once a week.  More if I’m comfortable with revealing that much. 

Anyway, I haven’t given up, I’ve made it manageable.  Comments about the fiction will be welcomed, and I hope you’ll tend toward constructive. 

The only thing I’m keeping from my first attempt at novel writing is my working title: Giddyup, Socks and Shoes!