I didn’t finish NaNo, not even close.  …beee ….cause…. I just don’t feel like writing fiction now.  And I’m lazy.  And have NO ideas.  NONE.  In the last couple of days I’ve caught myself thinking, what if I just wrote every word that pops into my head — not stream-of-consciousness, nowhere near organized enough to be called a “stream” of anything — and pretended that was a novel:  how far could I get?  It didn’t seem like something I wanted to do.

Therefore, December can be Personal Narrative-Non-Fiction Planning MonthPersonal because it’s just me doing it, not because I’m planning to write only about dull, limited personal things.  Narrative non-fiction because I still want to grow up to be John McPhee; planning because I figure on doing some meta-writing, let’s call it.  Deluxe note-taking.

 

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