It’s the eve before NaNoWriMo. The tension is in the air. I’m washing laundry like a madwoman, and it’s raining.
It’s such a good day to start this journey. I have the next three days off work, my computer was recently wiped clean because of some weird issues I was having, and Scrivener has been freshly installed onto my computer.
I’ve done no novel planning this year, which is actually quite a normal occurrence for me. I always forget until nearly a week before, and then it falls apart. When I participated in 2016, I had plotted the novel out pretty far in advanced, like a month and a half early, but then my dad got ahold of a real estate agent and boom, we were selling the house and moving out. Living in a crowded house with your grandfather, your parents, and sharing a bedroom with two other people and not enough privacy and space for someone to sit down and write a novel made it impossible, so I didn’t do it.
This year, though, is different. Sure, I work from home in a call center job being yelled at by people who’ve caused their own problems, or slapping my forehead at the guy who didn’t know his wireless keyboard had a power switch and couldn’t figure out why his keyboard didn’t work after batteries were replaced.
But I’ve got time off, I’ve got a novel brewing in my bones, and a mini-fridge full of ice cold drink and cheese sticks to pull me through tonight. I’ve got two stories I’ve debated between, stories I’ve been looking to tell for a while, but I’ve got until midnight to decide.
The game, my dear Watson, is on.
I’m making a list of things to do, chores to complete, research to have set aside before 12 Am rolls around. Despite that I have no plot line or character profiles prepared, I want my workspace and my life to be prepared. NaNo Comes around once a year, and I will be ready for this.