Must. Keep. Going. One. Word. At. A. Time.

Some lovely lillies, which Arctic Boy is VERY allergic to.

I’ve heard from Mr. Hot Stuff and others who have run marathons about “hitting the wall” somewhere around mile 20. They say it feels impossible to go on, the body screaming from every cell in protest and fighting to simply keep putting one foot in front of the other. This is the stage where the race truly becomes a contest between the mind and the body.

That is exactly how I’m feeling right now.  We’ve been getting cool pep talks in our email for NaNoWriMo with suggestions like, “try writing in a new location to survive week two”, or “throw a character into an unusual situation and see what he does”, sorts of helpful things. This week what do we get? A sort of reverse psychology letter from Lemony Snicket, who reminds us ever so kindly that it’s a cold, cruel, world, and no one could ever possibly want to read anything that we might write, even if we could come up with something worthwhile in just one month, so we may as well just quit now. (It’s actually a hilarious letter and I loved it.)

Ironically, I have pushed through this whole month, I have only 2,000 words left to write, and even though my “Lemony Snicket side” is yelling at me, “I’m tired! Just quit already!” I will not stop now.

I. Will. Finish. Even. If. I. Can. Only. Put. One. Word. On. The. Page. At. A. Time.

winner-winner, chicken dinner 🙂

P.S. I may be dead on Wednesday. If so, please cremate my body (U.S. customs really hates fresh corpses), plant shamrocks on my memorial stone (you might need to use plastic ones, Utah weather’s kinda hard on shamrocks), and invite some faeries to play a musical number at my funeral.

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