Not this one anyway... besides I was slow and for the most part unsure. Unsure on what story exactly I wanted to tell, unsure of how to tell it and unsure of who it was I was telling it to.
"Mhhmmm! Sounds like a lame excuse to me own eyes... But what to do? Tis the only one I got, so 'twill have to do fi now."
I did not do nearly half as well as I had hoped to do, and by the time I figured out how I wanted the story to go, I realised that half of what I had already written was pretty much irrelevant. Quite discouraging that was, and to be honest with you, I was pretty much ready to throw in the towel by the middle of week two. I didn't, though, because I had me a couple of relentless cheerleaders who wouldn't let me let up.
And so, plod on I did, picking up speed as I went. Where I had barely managed 10,000 words in two weeks, I was up to 27,000 words by thanksgiving, and with a long weekend coming up, I was fairly certain that I would make it to the finish line..... It would be close, but it was more than possible.
Imagine my shock then when, after psyching myself all day that fateful Wednesday, and toasting all night to a challenging last leg of an amazing race, I woke up to find that I had mysteriously contracted that most dreaded of afflictions that has plagued writers of world renown for ages, and try hard as I could, I could not shake the stupid block.
None of the numerous home remedies I found on the internet seemed effective... apparently the virus or whatever it is that carries this affliction, has mutated some since the days of Hemingway... Not even the the strongest rum concoction could rout it... and I balked at the suggestion of a surgical procedure... even a least invasive one, preferring instead to try and stuff my body with turkey and stuffing and cans of cranberry sauce, naively believing in my own genius..... I mean, does it not make sense that a running stomach will cleans out the whole body system.
Well, as it turns out, it does take everything out of you, including energy, sense of urgency and other important crap like that. So today, more than a week since that turkey went down, and seven days past the nonowrimo deadline, I returned to my writing desk and was able to hammer out a couple thousand words in as many hours.
Yes! A light flickers at the end of the tunnel. I wish I was in that particular tunnel.