Before the end of the year, I will have completed my first novel. I have not started it yet.
Writing a book is something I have always wanted to do. When I was 10 I decided I wanted to be a novelist for a living. When I was 11 I decided that would be too hard to break into, so I would “just” be a journalist instead. Went to journalism school, got a job as a page designer, decided I love design as much or more than I love writing. Was an editor and a creative director where I got to write and design. That all leads to now – where I am a graphic designer.
I have never lost my love of writing. I received a minor in creative writing in college. I love to write poetry, and in college I wrote many short stories. I have not written short stories since college. I graduated 8 years ago. But a novel – such a far-reaching dream and one I HAVE to achieve.
I have visions of myself in my mountain home typing away after retirement. Or maybe it’s a lake home or a cottage in Tuscany. At any rate, I have silver hair, no job, and nothing else to do but pour myself into my writing.
Here’s how it works: You write. You write your ass off. 50,000 words in 30 days. Holy hell.
But the fact that I know this exists means I HAVE to do it. I have to write a novel, and I have to do it in November. Chris and I are going to do it together, which means I can’t blow it off. I can’t not do it.
What will my book be about? I have no idea. You’re not supposed to even think about it until November 1.
I have no idea how I am going to find the time for this. 50,000 words in 30 days. That’s 1,666.66 words per day. I am going to visit Chris the first week of the month, away from the distractions of home, to begin my journey.
It’s not a mountain home or a view of the lake, but I will begin my masterpiece overlooking the charming and alluring downtown of Athens, Ga. Can’t think of a better place to start.