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November 3, 2009

Translation: Happy Novemeber, blog readers.

So many of my e-buddies on the nest are participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) right now, and they were thisclose to peer pressuring me into joining them.

The problem is this: I hate writing fiction. HATE. Creative writing exercises were the reason I thought English classes were organized by the devil himself. I had no issues writing long-ass, boring research papers. I danced into classrooms on peer-editing day armed with an assortment of red writing utensils (fine-point Sharpies are my favorite), ready to spread editing joy.

But on all the rest of the days during which we were expected to craft creatively written stories from the depths of our brains? I’d rather stab my eyes out with a blunt pencil, thankyouverymuch.

I have no issue with creative ideas. I have issues with setting down my editor hat to let the writer in me flourish. Everyone knows creative writing is a long, drawn-out process during which the story grows and changes and twists and turns and rivals my favorite rides at Cedar Point.

If one can’t get past making each paragraph absolutely perfect, one cannot turn those individual paragraphs into a great (or even mediocre) story.

But everyone was having such fun discussing their plans for NaNoWriMo that I *almost* joined in.

Then sense came to me, and I decided I’d only drive myself batty and resent every NaNoWriMo comment I saw.

So November came and I was left on the sidelines, wishing I had it in me to be part of a cool abbreviated event.


NaBloPoMo! That’s National Blog Posting Month, folks. I completely forgot about it, and I have participated the last two years (on my old blog. the one I abandoned.)! I’m such a weenie! Lucky for me, I started off November with a bang and already have a blog post for each day with a bonus one today.

So, everyone, I’d like to wish you a happy NaBloPoMo. My promise to you is a blog entry each day for this lovely month. Stick around for some non-fiction blogging in lieu of producing the next crappy great American novel.

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