Here it is. The last day of October - which means National Novel Writing Month (November) starts tomorrow. I've signed up to participate in NaNoWriMo again but have to admit my commitment isn't what it was last year.
The problem is I have no idea what I want to write about.
As of noon today, I have only the vaguest notion that I'd like to write a mystery novel and that my central character might be a former journalist or newly-minted Justice Minister. More than that I can't tell you. I don't have a plot, characters, or locale. I don't even have a victim, for goodness sake. Which isn't at all promising.
But here's what I learned from my NaNoWriMo experience last year: That making time to write every day and giving myself permission to put fingers to keyboard with no goal beyond producing 1667 words let all sorts of interesting stuff ooze from my deepest self-conscious. At its best, the process was exhilarating, joyous, and creative. At its worst, it was profoundly cathartic.
So plot or no plot, I'm going for it. Husband's hitting the road for a week so I'll have plenty of time to snuggle into my flannel jammies, brew endless cups of hot honey lemon (spiced up with the occasional shot of rum) and write my little heart out. With luck, I'll have figured out a story to tell in a day or two. Here's hoping anyway.
Wish me luck!