Demember is for Sleeping
You know when you vomit, but you haven't eaten anything, so you just vomit stomach juices? That is me and writing my story for Nanowrimo. I have a little over 43,000 words written--about 90 pages. I can't stop now, but I don't know what to write about. I've never had this much of a plot work out in my life. I have to keep writing. I have to.
The difference between novelists and people who write stories for fun is only one thing: novelists write novels. And if I can't get a measly 50,000 words down, I'm no good as a novelist. Quantity is better than quality at this point. Editing is a sin. But right now, my mouth is tainted with the awful taste of stomach juices, which I am continuing to pump out. I am scrolling through pages and pages of stomach juices, which have been splattered on a Word document, and somehow, somehow are making sense. I am surprised its all in English.
I'm not really doing this because I want to write a novel. Okay. I do want to write a novel. But mostly, this is a self-discipline thing. Some people do martial arts to learn the same thing. I don't want to go to Japan next year and be shown up by those damn Asians. I can work hard too, you know. Look, here's 100 pages of a story to prove it.
Before Nanowrimo, I was an old lady. I went to bed at 11pm, at the very latest. I got a good solid 8ish hours of sleep every night, and did my homework consistently. I was a good student. But then November arrived.
I make worse choices with less sleep. I've learned this. But I've also learned that I'm doing something that most people don't finish.
Clap your hands if you believe that I can finish! (or in fairies)
The difference between novelists and people who write stories for fun is only one thing: novelists write novels. And if I can't get a measly 50,000 words down, I'm no good as a novelist. Quantity is better than quality at this point. Editing is a sin. But right now, my mouth is tainted with the awful taste of stomach juices, which I am continuing to pump out. I am scrolling through pages and pages of stomach juices, which have been splattered on a Word document, and somehow, somehow are making sense. I am surprised its all in English.
I'm not really doing this because I want to write a novel. Okay. I do want to write a novel. But mostly, this is a self-discipline thing. Some people do martial arts to learn the same thing. I don't want to go to Japan next year and be shown up by those damn Asians. I can work hard too, you know. Look, here's 100 pages of a story to prove it.
Before Nanowrimo, I was an old lady. I went to bed at 11pm, at the very latest. I got a good solid 8ish hours of sleep every night, and did my homework consistently. I was a good student. But then November arrived.
I make worse choices with less sleep. I've learned this. But I've also learned that I'm doing something that most people don't finish.
Clap your hands if you believe that I can finish! (or in fairies)