They got me, I admit, with the little rewards. I want those badges, dammit. I have 5,550 words as of this minute and I’m proud of every single one of them.
However, I went in unprepared. No outline (not that I always have an outline, but this is no outline plus tremendous pressure to produce). The time I usually spend staring at the screen and imagining the best direction to go or the best next line of dialogue, I’m now spending just typing on and on about whatever my little brain can muster. It’s mustering. But at night, I think back over what I wrote and see a multitude of errors I’ll have to correct later.
Is it a novel? All I know is I’m beginning a huge sprawling mess of characters and situations that I haven’t let percolate long enough to maintain a flavor. It may very well read like thoughts I had under the influence of morphine when I was hospitalized. Don’t ask me what this story is about. Maybe I’ll have an idea by mid-November.
Not giving up yet! It’s too early to judge the process.
Also, I really want those badges, dammit.
