But I don't actually like many of the words. Or the plot. Or the setting. And aside from Henry and perhaps Drusilla, I'm a little dubious about the characters. Hannah in particular is really starting to annoy me, and not only because her age keeps changing. Oh, and that licorice mouse is severely lacking in personality. And why does Drusilla's home look exactly like the evil covered pony-cart that dropped Henry into the ocean?
Um. Ok. I'll get a grip and emerge from the surreal. My point is that while I don't expect to get even a first rough draft of a novel out of NaNoWriMo, I want to accomplish something. By this many words last year, I'd broken through much of my problem with writing dialogue. A few thousand words later, I'd created Henry, the first male character that I'd ever been able to empathize with from the inside, as opposed to just painting from the outside.
This year, I don't see that I've accomplished much. I've decided that after I kill off fifty thousand words, I'm going to immediately try to form a habit of writing two hundred words of more carefully crafted fiction every day. But what about during the fifty thousand?
I'll keep writing. Maybe it'll come to me soon.
Image: By AzaToth. Wikimedia Commons.
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