(Almost) January
It is very almost January. This means several things. It means it's almost 2007. It means I'm not far off being seventeen. It means it's almost the year in which I go to visit Elisabeth in Norway at Easter, my family in Germany in summer, and Spain with my boyfriend and his family in August. It means it's almost another two or three months before my family gets round to sadly dismantling the glittery Christmas tree. It means also that it's almost two months since I started NaNoWriMo.
Bearing this in mind, and bearing in mind that I promised a few people that I'd give them what I wrote in November, I thought it might be time to print off my NaNoWriMo story. And print it off I just did.
I promised myself at the end of November that I wouldn't just stop writing because 31 days had passed, and that I'd write until I had something resembling a beginning, a middle and an end. Predictably, that didn't happen, and now I have something resembling only the beginning and middle.
As my right hand types this, my left hand strokes lovingly the giant stack of pages - 64 in total. I'm realising I should have numbered the pages before I printed. And I realise also that it was silly to use the unreliable family printer, which coughed and juddered its faulty way through half an hour of printing, smudging and chewing up many pages in technological retaliation. Despite at least ten pages having printed upside-down by some bizarre feat on the printer's behalf of the inward somersaulting and manipulation of passive paper, January will be spent putting pages in order, reading over what I've written so far, scribbling in the margins with a red pen, and generating new ideas for endings. I (pinky) promise.
Bearing this in mind, and bearing in mind that I promised a few people that I'd give them what I wrote in November, I thought it might be time to print off my NaNoWriMo story. And print it off I just did.
I promised myself at the end of November that I wouldn't just stop writing because 31 days had passed, and that I'd write until I had something resembling a beginning, a middle and an end. Predictably, that didn't happen, and now I have something resembling only the beginning and middle.
As my right hand types this, my left hand strokes lovingly the giant stack of pages - 64 in total. I'm realising I should have numbered the pages before I printed. And I realise also that it was silly to use the unreliable family printer, which coughed and juddered its faulty way through half an hour of printing, smudging and chewing up many pages in technological retaliation. Despite at least ten pages having printed upside-down by some bizarre feat on the printer's behalf of the inward somersaulting and manipulation of passive paper, January will be spent putting pages in order, reading over what I've written so far, scribbling in the margins with a red pen, and generating new ideas for endings. I (pinky) promise.
kiwiqueen - 27. Dec, 14:11