that same old end-of-October song

Books and a red box on a shelf

It’s the word on every writer (and maybe-I’d-be-a-writer-if-I-actually-wrote-something)’s lips, and blog and social-media-of-choice, deaded by some, adored by others:


Let me be clear, I love National Novel Writing Month. Love it in my bones, HAVE loved it since I actually finished Happyland during one daring November (in case I haven’t mentioned it before, my work-in-progresses tend to have horrible, straightforward names that would make horrible titles. It’s a condition).

The issue is the same old problems I have with writing, or not writing (lack of time, followed by lack of focus/motivation), amplified by four because I WANT to Nano so very much. But there is still no time. And when there is time there are Other Projects, and also Sleep, which I’m always hoping to get more time for.

Don’t mind me, I’m just throwing my two cents on the the authorial wibbling pile.

(Psst, in case you were wondering, yes, of course I’ve signed up, I couldn’t stop myself…)