So November has been a busy month. I haven’t gotten much knitting in lately — yeah, bet you didn’t know that I’m a knitter, yes I like to get my grandma on whilst listening to either audiobooks or some really evil death metal (seriously). I love metal, and knitting to metal. I enjoy the juxtaposition. Anyway, this is the start of a hat pattern from Knitty. It’s a pretty self-striping 70% merino, 30% soysilk that I bought a few years back for some legwarmers and had a bit left over.
Anyway, regarding NaNoWriMo… welp, I’m not a winner (i.e. 50k words in a month), but I’m actually okay with that. By the end of today I’ll have 20k of quality work, with an estimated 70k or so to go. It’s been slow going with the simultaneous research, and life… well, by NaNo standards I suppose. I don’t consider 20k in a month all too shabby, since I’m pretty sure this is the most I’ve written in a month to date — and that’s not counting the other shorts I was working on as well.
I’ve made a personal resolution to write 1500 words every day. No less, but more if I feel like it. That’s 10,500 a week, 42k a month.
If I can keep it up, that’s pretty good, and quite doable. That’s doable. I have two three more novel ideas gestating in my brain, so I think 2013 will be a busy year. I just have to come up with a suitable reward system for myself. Maybe more masturbation? Dinner? In that order? I don’t know.
So I’m going to NYC next weekend because I have a new ladyfriend-type-person, and I may or may not be getting laid, a lot. Hint: it’s the former. Sorry to rub it in. Actually, not really. Soooo, between bouts of marathon lesbian sex, I’ll be checking out a couple museums, one of which being the Museum of Sex. I’ve actually not been there before, and I’m quite looking forward to it. Rest assured I’ll be taking lots of pictures and posting them here, Dear Reader. Unfortunately (for you), there will be no (public) pictures of the marathon sex. I kid, I kid. There will be mental pictures, emerging in future writings, and you will be reaping the benefits in an indirect way. I can’t help you with your real life sex drought, though, I’m afraid.
In other news, my cat has been sick, and let me tell you, nothing quite puts you in the mood to write smut than wrapping up a cat who knows what’s coming in a blanket like a vengeful burrito and forcing antibiotics in pill form down his maw, then holding his mouth shut to make sure he swallows instead of spitting it out like a college freshman at her first frat party. Is that inappropriate? Oh well. He’s fixed, so it’s okay. I know what I’m doing, trust me.
Edit: I couldn’t resist. May the gods forgive me.