You didn’t hear from me today because this week, NaNoWriMo has completely jargogled my brain.
Yes, you read it right. Jargogled. And no, I didn’t make it up. I found it in this article about 20 obsolete English words, and I love it, so I decided to start using it immediately.
Reading that article, by the way, was one of the many things I’ve been doing when I should’ve been writing.
Currently, my wordcount is at 31,270. That’s still 1,270 more words than I actually need — but I had a headstart of 4k a few days ago, so 1.2k is rather malagrugrous.
See. I told you that you should go read that article. Except I didn’t tell you that. So now I’m telling you. Go read it. It’s full of other fun things, like kench and jollux and brabble, and I swear I’m not making any of these up.
But NaNo. Everybody talks about the Week Two Slump. Aaron talked about it last week — in Week Two. We are now in Week Three, and because I enjoy not conforming, I’ve apparently picked Week Three in which to have my Week Two crisis. Nothing like frecking fashionably late into the party.
The words aren’t there. Facebook is more interesting. Snarky, witty main character has turned into boring, distressed damsel. In the last 30 hours, I’ve watched three episodes of Dexter as well as the excellent but depressing film The Duchess, starring Kiera Knightley. My demon zombies don’t want to eat anybody. It’s enough to make a girl want to go on a brannigan.
I want to quit. The hubby and I are currently without income. Several dear friends are in major crisis. The stress makes me feel like someone has picked me up and quagswagged me. Tension has lodged in my neck and shoulders, which turns sitting at the computer and typing into torture. I really, really, really want to quit. Screw writing, I just wanna jitterbug.
But I won’t quit. I’m too stubborn to quit. I’d be a hoddypeak to quit. I have more than thirty thousand words written in Book 3 of the trilogy I’ve been writing — in my head and on paper — for almost three years. I AM NOT GOING TO QUIT.
Yes, I might be living in a widdendream. This first draft might be yemeles and full of perissology, and my lack of sleep might be turning me into something far from illecebrous. And the bibesy feeling probably will get stronger before this week is over.
I. Will. Not. Quit.
Bring on the scriptitation. I am going to win this thing, jargogled brain or no.