NaNoWriMo

For those of you wondering, yes, I am going ahead with the novel writing thing. Last year, as you may remember, I failed miserably. This year, however, armed with what I think are some interesting ideas and not burdened (knock on wood) by any bacteria or viruses, I am determined to finish the 50,000 word novel by midnight on November 30th (perhaps I can give it to Shari as a birthday present?).

Unlike my intentions last year, however, I will not be posting every update online. I'll put excerpts up now and then - the pressure of public scrutiny is just too much for my inner editor to deal with at this point.

I'll just include this tiny taste for now:

It was the night before the big day and, instead of nailing down any of the multitude of last minute details running through his mind about what he would say and how he would say it, young Roger Canfield, debonair 29 year old, was in the kitchen killing ants.

Hundreds and hundreds of ants. Ex-ants, more precisely. They had, once again, inevitably, found a tasty treat or two on the floor, perhaps a splash of salsa or some stray piece of Safeway chicken. The ants, it seemed, liked Safeway chicken as much as Roger did. How many Safeway chickens had found their way from the inhumane steel-wired cages of Arkansas into the somewhat more roomy confines of his stomach? He would likely never know.