The Butler Did It

Somehow, my lovely wife convinced me to participate in National Novel Writing Month. I hemmed. I hawed. Then I complained, refused to start and whined about how I had no workable ideas.

Then I saw an elderly couple cuddling on a park bench during one of my bike rides. Proverbial inspiration struck. So I agreed.

But I didn't stop complaining.

So, yesterday it started. I made myself a playlist of music that fit the mood, and worked all day with the knowledge that if I want to hit the 50,000 word goal by the end of the month I'd have to really crank through and not give up.

By lunch, without a word written, I had quit twice. But, thanks to the playlist, had fallen in love with two Tom Waits songs I had ignored.

The wife came home and told me she'd make dinner while I wrote. So I did. I finished work and sat down. An hour and a half later I was 2500 words into what might actually be a novel.

Go figure.

Enjoy this, though. Odds are you'll never see a word that I've written. Okay, okay. That does seem mean. Here, I'll give you this:

Virginity.

I wrote that word in the novel. Only 47,500 words to go!