My masterpiece

Last night I read Hannah's post and found out that November is a NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Basically, one has to write a 175 page novel in 30 days, with quantity, not quality being the prime objective. Since I spend most days wondering how to keep myself busy, I got very excited at the prospect of actually doing this. They (the organizers and I wonder who they are) even expect you to do a bad job, so what's there to lose?

The excitement was very short lived, and very soon I became preoccupied. I was thinking about my future novel all night and the whole day today.

Novel

by

SubWife

I told you, got nothing better to do.

And now, 24 hours later, I came to a sad realization - I have nothing to say to the world. I just don't know how I can possibly fill those 175 pages. I am too young for memoirs and too blah to write anything else. I would love to write something - anything - just for the heck of it, but - goodness gracious - 175 pages??? Even if I write pure cr4p (I am using the words from the introduction letter), I still can't fill up 175 pages with it unless I introduce a lot of beans to my diet . Of course, I could go the Tolstoy path and describe my breakfast in four pages, lunch in two, afternoon hunger pangs in seven, all in excruciating details, but I might die of boredom doing this, I am just too young to die.

This is a sad day in the life of SubWife. Those organizers (really, who are they?) weren't lying - one will find out something about oneself at the end of the process, even if one doesn't get to finish the novel or write full 175 pages. Only the end of the process for me came on October 26 and I discovered that I just ain't no writer. (Something all of you already realized, and I am the last to know...) So you can all breathe a sigh of relief - my 175 page novel will not be on the summer reading for your kids. And I am going back to my beans.