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Tuesday, November 30, 2010

The National Novel Writing Month finishes today, and I've written 26,073 words. You can't ask for much more than that. Well, you can ask for twenty-four thousand more than that, but you're not going to get it. Obviously I'm not a winner, but that doesn't make me a loser. I prefer to think of myself as a silver medallist. I tried, I failed, but I've got something to take home and show the kids. Although whether Amelie will ever want to read the seventeen chapters I've written, seems slightly doubtful.

I don't regret trying though. I've spent the past year saying that between a fairly demanding job and a very demanding daughter, I can't write anything more than a blog, so at the very least I've proved that not to be true. On some days, anyway. On others, a three line blog post seems beyond me, never mind a novel. But it's made me realise what I'm capable of. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

I've finished this year's NaNoWriMo snowed in at Uckfield Hospital, where I've written four hundred high quality words whilst looking at this scene from the window of my room...

I don't know if it was the view that inspired me, or just the resulting cabin fever, but those four hundred improvised words feature references to stomach stapling, Satan and herring, plus one of the finest Venetian blind jokes you're ever likely to read. Although you're unlikely to read it unless I finish chapter eighteen. Give me until Christmas.

Anyhoo, having skidded home through the snowdrifts, I asked Amelie what she'd done today. She told me with great enthusiasm that she and Mummy had gone on a bus to playgroup, where she'd played with the yellow balls, eaten some beans and had lots of fun. Which would be fine if I didn't know for a fact that they'd been stuck indoors all day due to the weather. I'm beginning to think I can't believe a word she says.


Dave said...

26,000 words will give you a good start for next year's competition.

Phil's Mum said...

Yes, I wondered if he could save them for next year!

On the subject of Am's imagination, I keep telling you not to believe what she tells you about her visits to us.  I think its your interrogatory skills - she gives in under torture and says anything!

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