I'm staying at Camp NaNoWriMo for the month

There's a month of writing insanity. It happens in November when the doldrums of winter begin to rear its ugly head. It happens right at the beginning of the holiday season, which tends to spur even more insanity. I've written about National Novel Writing Month before, have taken part, and I've also "won" (met the 50,000 word count minimum) twice out of the three times I've done it.

I know, I know, writers talking about writing. How meta can you get?

More like meta-cognition, am I right?


Well, crickets are appropriate because November is a long way off -- let's hope it stays far, far away. Like, I don't even want it to exist right now as we head toward the middle of July.

Crickets are the nocturnal symphony of summer. You go outside after the sun has disappeared from the horizon, the stucco orange and bright Crayola magenta of the sky cooled off to that evening blue, and as the lightning bugs (or fireflies, depending on your locale) dot the yard with yellow, you hold your glass of red wine and sigh.

This is it. The openness of summer. Limitless green, biting mosquitoes, fireworks long after the Fourth of July, sponge-like air, and the soft nighttime breeze.

It turns out, in all this openness, the people at the nonprofit NaNoWriMo do more than just promote writing during the month of writing. They promote it all the time, and during the summer they host Camp NaNoWriMo.

Now, I've never been to camp. I can't compare the experiences.

But, I've signed up for camp this July, and I've been at work writing, writing, and more writing. I'm a fake writer because I lack the discipline needed. I need things like Camp NaNoWrimo and November because it forces me to be disciplined. If I'm going to take it seriously, which I tend to, I will actually sit down daily and write -- something I need to do.

I feel a little bad because I've shelved my most current work -- editing, that is, so I can start finding readers and an agent.

I'll pick it back up here shortly, but for now, I'm detouring.

I'm currently working within a world I've already created. The book I'm currently editing, and hoping finds an agent, just gained a sister novel. Well, by the end of July it will have a sister novel. Not quite a sequel because it's not a continuation of my previous book, but they will go hand-in-hand. They exist in the same world.

The first story I wrote almost two years ago takes place in a land the characters call Can-tacky -- which sounds very similar to Kentucky, doesn't it? This current story is more local. It's happening about ten minutes away in the land the characters have dubbed Pandletum-Indyama.