For those of you who have been following along at home, you’ve heard a lot about NaNoWriMo in the past two months. This amazing literary event of writing abandon is the highlight of my November and in many ways the highlight of my year. It’s all about writing. Writing on my own, with friends, in competition with them, and ultimately producing more words per week, day, and hour than I ever do any other time of year.
And now it’s over. The first week of December can start with such a high since I just validated my win and went to the TGIO party, but as with most highs, there is a bit of a letdown afterward. So what do I do now that the spectacular event known as NaNoWriMo is over?
First, I take a month off. December is all about Christmas and spending time with family (and dealing with inventory at work).
Then, I celebrate New Year’s with friends. If I’m really lucky I can break my three-year streak and not have to work from home at the party this year.
And in the new year, I dust of my manuscript (whether from NaNo or before that) and I get back to work. If I didn’t finish the story, I keep writing. If I did, it’s time to start thinking about revision.
One way or another, I get back to my craft and doing the storytelling that I love.
But before that, here are a few final highlights from November.
My final word count: 70,072
My words per day average: 2,335
My best sprint this year: 982 words in 15 minutes for 65 words per minute
My favorite snippet:
Órflaith felt them coming.
She grabbed Michi’s arm and pulled him from the bed toward the door.
Michi stumbled against her.
“What?” he asked, only barely conscious.
“They come, we must flee,” Órflaith replied, reaching for the door handle.
Púca poured into the room when she opened the door.
They came from the walls, the ceiling, even the floor.
Órflaith pushed Michi out the door with one hand as she threw a ball of her glamour with the other. It wouldn’t harm the púca but it would at least buy them a moment to escape.
She dove through the door and grabbed Michi again, lifting him into her arms. He was too weak to run, so she would run for him.
The city streets were not someplace the púca would be familiar with, and Órflaith hoped it would be enough of an edge for them to get away.
Her legs burned as she ran as fast as she could, a blur of color and wind to the humans she passed as she raced through the city toward the more densely populated areas. She needed to be able to get lost in the human world again. Something about entering Faery had alerted the púca to where they were.
My final word cloud:
*Title Image is my photo of a t-shirt with design courtesy of NaNoWriMo.org