My head is as big as a gourd. I successfully finished Nanowrimo, National Novel Writing Month. My novel's title cannot be published here because either 1) it is under hush hush negotiations with a top publishing house or 2) it is such an awful title that the novel ended up having nothing to do with it and is filing for an annulment. Here's a hint: you won't be seeing it on any shelves at any book stores near you, but if you come to my house it is in the FedEx copy box beside the recliner.
155 pages, single spaced and I perused it yesterday. I'm pretty sure that the spouse was slipping me complex mushrooms for the whole month because I remember writing very little of that. Suddenly Keith Richards' memoir and Hunter S. Thompson make perfect sense. I am also way more sympathetic towards bad writers everywhere.
In other news, I will be posting some Hanukkah advice for the next eight days per request. The requester happened to steal my 3 to 2 prong computer plug adapter today while babysitting my sick daughter so you may not get it tonight... but soon.
Thanks to so many of you who checked back here at the blog or on Facebook throughout the month and kept me going. And thanks to my fan from Massachusetts, previously of Hawaii, who outed his fandom at his beloved grandmother's funeral. I love you, too.
As for those of you who didn't make Nanowrimo this year: we can sign up next year on October 15. You'll love it when it doesn't make you want to die.