Now that we have the drama of the shaving of the head out of the way -do you realize you are all carrying a superfluous amount of hair on your heads?- I can get back back to the order of the day. Like writing a book in a month.
E. convinced me with one measly word to sign up for
national novel writing month with her.
The idea, which is to write a novel during the month of November, is of course ludicrous.
Writing a book in thirty days, a book meaning a lengthy work of fiction of 50,000 words, that is just under 2000 words a day, is no mean feat. Writing a book in a month, of which half that time my chemo brain will not tolerate anything other than re-reuns of 'America's next top model', does not give great prospects for success.
But it sounds like fun to me.
I just need a little inspiration.
(Relax, mam I will not do a "Richard Billingham" " of our family. Maybe just a few bits and pieces here and there.)