The 12th day of…NaNoWriMo has just come and gone, here in the Midwest at least.
I should be at a shade over twenty thousand words now. I am, in fact, at nineteen thousand, two hundred forty. Not particularly bad. Other years things have been worse at this point.
The writing is going well. Some additional minor characters have turned up. They shall strut upon the stage, contributing to the action while there, and then fade away. In truth, at least two of them are slated to not fade away. Their end will leave a larger mark than that.
The story seems to be working. There's a strong possibility that it will reach a satisfying conclusion—but the characters will go on. Ricardo Alvarez won't reach his timeshare salesman by then end of this book.
There's room for a second one. And who knows after that?
I'm typing this year rather than, as in past years, writing the story longhand with a fountain pen (or three.) A change is as good as a rest…as the saying goes. And, also, I didn't get enough of my act together to get set up for writing the story.
I type at about the same rate as I write—around one thousand words in an hour. I'm taking the "write the next sentence" approach to the structure. Meaning I don't have one, a structure I mean. Nor an outline. Just the next sentence. Then the next. Then the next.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
It's working for me. It may not work for others.
However you're doing it, I wish all NaNoWriMo writers the very best for this insanity.