Tag Archives: pressure

NaNoWriMo – here we go

So NaNoWriMo is tomorrow, and I’m starting to regret that I don’t drink coffee. I’m both scared and excited, but mostly curious to see what happens. I have a general idea of what I’m going to write about, but I also have a sneaking suspicion that the pressure of 50,000 words in 30 days is going to warp it somewhat. I’m also curious to see what effect that each country we travel through will have on the story. Maybe while we are here in Morocco donkeys laden with spice sacks will wander bewildered through my scenes, and my characters will stop for mint tea a little more often than is strictly necessary.

1,667 words a day is a daunting prospect, but I’m hoping that that pressure is what’s going to make it happen. It feels legitimate, official somehow, now that there’s an organization with a website and thousands of fellow bloggers taking up the challenge too. It’s a comforting thought, that all around the world this November there will be writers suffering from insomnia, writers staring at that blinking cursor, writers drinking coffee around the clock and getting out of bed at 4am for the third time to jot something down. The things we suffer for our art! I also think that the accountability will be the nudge that is going to make me get up in the mornings and go straight to my laptop. Now that I’ve told everyone there really is no backing out, or I will be cast into failed writer-dom forever!

So I guess that my blogging will mostly be travel related this month, with the occasional excerpt from my novel to see what you all think. Hopefully the writing won’t be too shockingly bad! Good luck to all you fellow NaNoWriMo-ers this November too, I’ll see you on the other side.



this quiet tension

Pollença skies

There is a storm coming.

I feel it, the pressure behind my forehead building, the air becoming heavier, thicker somehow. The dark clouds roll into view, high and menacing far above. One by one the stars are blotted out, the night sky becoming velvety and impenetrable. Everything is affected by this tension, this taut pressure. Inside the low Spanish homes the dogs are strangely quiet. The narrow streets are abandoned, the air still and waiting. Within the next hour or so it will begin.