I'm not blogging...

50,000 words in 30 days is hard. I'm behind everyone I know who's doing this NaNoWriMo challenge. I'm on around 6,000 words. I suspect Steve is on 10,000 plus, he's not telling me any more because he knows I could take it badly. His friend Barron is on 7,500 words. And I feel competitive with Steve's friend Barron, just because he was rude to Steve a couple of times, and seems like an arrogant prick.

I am enjoying writing the novel. The book about NaNoWriMo is called, 'No plot? No problem!' This promotes a helter-skelter, don't-give-a-fuck, off-the-top-of-your-head approach to writing. I'm enjoying this style of Noveling so far. I've had fun with plot twists involving Enid Blyton's Faraway Tree book, pretentious 1950's style greasy spoons, and green and yellow paper pants.

Amy loves the Faraway Tree books, they were first published by Enid Blyton in 1939. My Mum read it to me as a kid, I'm sure she read it when she was little too. If I had time to blog I'd tell you about it. I'd tell you all about pop biscuits, and the different magical land at the top of the tree each day, and Fanny and her cousin Dick and their visits to 'queer lands' where they always find a 'gay adventure.'

But I'm on 5,833 words. I said I wouldn't quit until I've done 6,000. Fuck.

Steve keeps threatening to throw in flying monkeys when he gets stuck. I think it's a bit too early to get that flying monkeys kind of desperate. Ah, my notes say, 'Sick. Trying to be sick.' Might get to 6,000 words yet... Fuck.

I've written a few paragraphs of, 'Fuck fuck fuck's just to boost the word count.

Fuck.

Sorry, this is the blog. Word counts don't matter.