Well, you did it. You survived Week Two. Your word count is up, your stress levels are down (slightly), and your pulled-from-the-butt series of character interactions have miraculously gelled into something approaching a plot.
And guess what? It just gets better from here. Cross the 25,000-word divide and you’ll feel a small surge of energy. Cross the 30,000-word mark, and you shift into overdrive.
At 30,000, the air clears. And you start to notice the Sound. It’s still far away, sure. Indistinct. Almost something your feel rather than hear. But that buzz grows louder with every word you type. It’s the sound of the crowds at the finish line. They’re restless and roaring, and every last one of them is waiting for you to round that bend and make your appearance.
If you — like most of us — fell behind in Week Two, now is the time to focus all your energies on getting aught up. Put in the hours. Write every night. Thirty thousand words is the start of the domino fall, the eginning of the endgame.
Wherever you are right now, get to 30,000 this week. And then keep rolling on towards 40,000. The task is daunting, I know. But we can do it. In one week’s time, we’ll be on pace and unstoppable.
And in two week’s time, we will be begin the real work of NaNoWriMo: Boring friends and family with the glorious story of our come-from-behind victory.
Ah, I can hardly wait.
Good luck to everyone this week. The champagne is on its way.
Well, I’m just under 19,000 words. That means that I’ve really got to buckle down and write. I could write now (and actually, all of my writing thus far has been done late at night) but I am not. I am going to bed and up early, make some phone calls. Part of the thing that sucks with Hire Calling is that if you want to be eligible, you MUST call them between 8 and 9 am. GRRR.
I do feel a little bit different now though. In my Franklin Covey planner I’ve listed “WRITER” as a role for quite a while now, listing all sorts of things to do for that role. But I never do. Writing was mostly a fantasy. But I started thinking while looking through a catalogue of books that came in the mail, right before I threw it away, look at the number of authors in this catalogue. Imagine the number of authors in a bookstore’s shelving. Put these authors on a map of the world. A lot of space between, but now, take away everyone that I know (in flesh and blood) who doesn’t write. Poof, there went everyone I know. The chances of actually writing something and having it published didn’t seem so damn far fetched then.
But still… I’m going to sleep. I’m pooped.