I hate Nanowrimo
It's late. It took me three hours to write 1,600 words today. They were garbage. Every last comma. I hate Nanowrimo. The cat bit me even. It's like she knew somehow.
Why do I do this every year? Why am I writing about a sociopath who pees in bottles and takes pictures of the backs of people's heads? Why does he keep showing up, with utterly no agenda or purpose, to wreck every scene, like he's Rob Schneider?
In case this wasn't clear, this is the worst novel ever written. It is almost as bad as Douglas Coupland's last 5 novels. I can't wait to spend the next 15 days stacking more presto-logs of prose on this heaping pile of literary excrement.
The husband says I was whiny like this last year too. He lies. You are all liars.
I am going to bed.
Why do I do this every year? Why am I writing about a sociopath who pees in bottles and takes pictures of the backs of people's heads? Why does he keep showing up, with utterly no agenda or purpose, to wreck every scene, like he's Rob Schneider?
In case this wasn't clear, this is the worst novel ever written. It is almost as bad as Douglas Coupland's last 5 novels. I can't wait to spend the next 15 days stacking more presto-logs of prose on this heaping pile of literary excrement.
The husband says I was whiny like this last year too. He lies. You are all liars.
I am going to bed.
posted by Strikethru at
9:56 PM
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