Tuesday, October 27, 2009

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.




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.


  1. Thank you for not writing a novel. If you did, I might have felt obligated to read it.

    Thought you might have something to say about this. 112 year old geezer marries a 17 year old in Somalia.

  2. Now i have to write one just to spite you...

  3. oh, just checked out the story. the bride looks positively ecstatic, as if she just ate a dozen lemons without sugar.

  4. Haha, wouldn't you be? It's funny how he says he waited for her to grow up.

  5. 175 pages?! Daamn! Sounds like an interesting challenge though. Especially if it can be 175 pages of crap.

  6. Sophie, it sounds kinda romantic in novels (Angelique, for example), but in real life (esp. given the circumstances of this particular case) is rather creepy. Bet he is waiting for some prize (Nobel Academy, can you take a hint?) for not molesting her beforehand.


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