ready for the floor

So some people are selfish. Go figure.

This year I am definitely, 100% getting on board NaNoWriMo. I chuffing hate the winter (cold, inconvenient, causes my car severe depression) so it's unlikely I'll be leaving the house unless I absolutely have to (work, supplies, jaunts down to London when I deem it suitable), so I might as well have something to do to prevent me teaching the cat to juggle.

I don't know if I think I could be a writer or if I just think I'd like to be a writer. I think I'm more 'situational comment' than 'imaginative novelist'. Still, I'm game if you are.

I always think maybe I'm not very imaginative, until I catch myself right in the middle of a long and elaborate lie involving the police, twelve ski poles and the state of Arizona. The commentary between me and my brother in our Facebook 'How We Met' section is shining, singing praise of my (our) combined brilliance. So I think I can knock out 50,000 words about a girl with a scar on her nose who goes to live somewhere unfamiliar to her, falls in with the wrong people, then falls in with the right people, undergoes some trials and tribulations and finally finds out that it's ok to be whatever it is she already happens to be. I'm going to incorporate the themes of 'song', 'magic' and 'talking animals'. Maybe it will be set in the future, or an parallel universe, or an alternate history. Maybe it won't be set anywhere. Maybe I'll re-type Catch-22 and claim it is an homage to Joseph Heller.

In the meanwhile, I'm allowing myself to read Joey Comeau's installment-Halloween-horror, even though every time I read anything he writes I end up unconsciously aping him for weeks afterwards.