Well, it's December first, which means that National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, is officially over, and I have officially lost. After a final push last night, I managed to get my word count up close to 25,000, which was half of the 50,000 required for entry into the "winners circle." It was fun, though, and I'll keep plugging away at it. For the two of you who were keeping up with the entries, I'll find some way of sharing progress with you.
I met many people, at various coffee shops and bookstores around town, who hit or exceeded the winning word count. Bravo to them!
Of course, they all appear to be 25 years old. Harumph. I wrote like that when I was 25 years old. If I were 25, I'm sure I could have crossed the finish line in time. For me, though, at this stage of life, NaNoWriMo comes once a year, but LoChiReMo (local child rearing month) is forever.
I do have an exemption for the day, however, in honor of my post-oral-surgery swollen face. The Wife and Things 1 and 2 are off with my mother in law at something called (and I don't think it's the Vicodin talking), the Raindog Parade. Or maybe it's the Reindog Parade. Perhaps it's both--it has been raining an awful lot here of late.