I started this blog a year ago today, on November 1st, 2010.  Since then, I have met some amazing people, reconnected with other people I lost touch with years ago, expanded my To-Be-Read list to longer than it’s ever been (it’s a good thing–so many exciting reading possibilities!), had great feedback on my writing, and reviewed over 100 books.

This is Post #184.

Thank you to everyone who has made it so much fun.  🙂  I appreciate your reading and I love your comments–making it a conversation, not just me rattling on!  I look forward to discussing more books, sharing more writing, and analyzing more aspects of literature.

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By pure coincidence, this is also Day 1 of my first attempt at NaNoWriMo.  Read the background here.

So far, I’ve had a good start.  I got out of bed early this morning to write 400 words before work.  Then I had to put the novel aside until the early evening, before I was free to get back to it.  I’ve had something of a rhythm for the last year, of writing and stopping whenever I hit a point that feels like I’m done for the day.  I don’t know immediately (or reasonably quickly) what the next sentence is, so if I’ve written a reasonable amount I table it for a while.  I hit that point today at about 1,200 words, so I encountered already the benefit of daily word goals.  Since I was almost 500 words short, I made myself push on, and got into another stretch of story I knew what to do with.

The question is, will I still have that kind of discipline by day 21?  Or whenever.

But for today, all’s well.  Final count before I hit a second wall was 1,996.  Only 48,004 words to go!

I am fluctuating between excitement about my characters, and a fear that I don’t actually have enough plot.  Considering that, of my last four projects, three have stretched longer than expected and only one turned out plotless (and was subsequently abandoned), I may just be paranoid.  But I guess I’ll find out!

A couple of excerpts, before I give up typing for the night…

Opening paragraph:

There are twelve of us, but everyone thinks of us as one.  We encourage it.  Our anonymity is our strength, and our curse.

And a slight introduction to Lyra, my narrator:

I tell stories.  I read them, I imagine them, I live them and breathe them and can no more imagine my life without them than I can imagine a life without eating.  I try to imagine a life without my sisters, but it’s a bit like imagining life without the sky.  How can you imagine away something that has always been there?

Good luck to everyone else starting a novel today!