I was sort of semi taking it all seriously until the other night, when I was driving home from my Mom’s house and I heard the originator of the site on NPR. He was telling us all how he and a bunch of his drunken buddies came up with the idea one night. Hahaha! Let’s try it out, they said. What the hell, why not?
They had 21 guys the first year. Something like 150 the second. Around 2,000 the third.
You get the idea.
This year there are, according to this guy, around 400,000 of us slaving away at our keyboards. Gulp. We are from 30 countries. Gulp again.
I guess my novel isn’t likely to earn me that big money that I’ve been dreaming about,huh?
And here’s the next kick in the gut item from the NaNoWriMo creator: your 50,000 words are way too few to make a real novel! And they will inevitably be complete crap! Now you’ll need to edit. And add on. And revise. And reconsider.
I thought I was finally on my way to fame, fortune and no more recess duty.
But the funny thing?
Its that as I read my own words, my very own thoughts, I keep finding myself moved to tears.
So either I am a complete sap (highly probable), or my novel has some potential (highly unlikely, yet still enticing.)
I am on track to get my NaNoWriMo “winner” badge.
Big freakin’ deal.