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The day was drawing to a close and I was a few hundred words away from 50,000. It was late; I was tired; I was so close. Technically, I had two choices:

1. Wait until morning to cross the finish line.
2. Keep the fingers flying and get 'er done!

Realistically, I only had one choice. I had to keep going. How could I stop when I was almost, nearly, 99.97% finished? So, the fingers kept flying and I completed another awful novel. (Okay, it isn't completed in the traditional "The End" sense of the word, but it's complete for the time being.)

This was the second year in a row that I didn't use my trusty Palm V. I used that device to write my first three NaNo-novels, but I didn't touch it once this month. I relied solely on Writeroom and Google Docs. I fear a NaNoWriMo tradition has ended.

The goal for next year will be to write something every day that is excerpt-worthy. I looked through this year's effort and couldn't find a hundred words worth sharing. That isn't true. I could find a hundred words worth sharing, but they were all in different sentences.

To illustrate my point, here's an example...

"Do you see anything, Morlock?" said Jake, gripping the railing and peering into the darkness. He could see nothing, but something was out there.

"No, not a thing, and that's what worries me." The Captain surveyed the cavern again and his eyes fell upon the single spotlight they had angled towards the ceiling. Slowly, he let his gaze follow the beam until it came upon a pair of glowing red eyes staring down at him from high above -- glowing red bovine eyes.

Amidst the screeching moos that echoed off the walls, Morlock heard a sudden whistling sound and he and Jake stared in horror as something plopped in the middle of the Foxy Lady's poop deck. Steam and stench rose from it.

"Oh, crap," said Jake.

In that mess, the word worth sharing is "bovine".

As I do every year, I have compiled some statistics. For comparison purposes, last year's stats are shown in parentheses:

• Words written: 50,306 (50,272)
• Hours of writing: 32.75 (40.75)
• Highest one-day count: 13,014 (3,918)
• Lowest one-day count: 0 (0)
• Percent of novel written on my PDA: 0 (0)
• Least productive day of the week: Thursday (Friday)
• Number of writing days: 20 (22)
• Number of zero-word days: 7 (1)
• Cups of coffee consumed (above "normal"): 20 (7)
• Pounds of Skittles eaten: 0.30 (0.25)

Congratulations to everybody who has already finished. To everybody else nearing the finish line, if you're in need of a thousand words or so, try adding a herd of vampire cows. That should help you get 'er done!

Five days remain to complete this year's novel-writing challenge. While other novelists kept on rolling, my word count stalled out around 27,000 Thanksgiving Eve and didn't start back up until Saturday evening, when we returned from Yosemite. I was able to crank out 2,000 words before conking out that night.

Yesterday was The Day. If I didn't make a big push and produce an insane number of words before the sun went down, I figured I was finished.

Before I sat down to write, I kept thinking, "You've had more than two weeks to catch up and you are still thousands of words behind. If you can't find the discipline to focus and write, then maybe you don't have it."

Then I sat down, limbered up my fingers, and said, "Let's do this thing!" In my head, I sounded tough like The Rock. In reality, I sounded more like Linguini from Ratatouille.

With the help of a healthy dose of sunlight, encouragement from M, a pot of coffee, a bag of Skittles, and a new writing hat (it looks silly, but works), I somehow managed to knock out 13,000 words.

While it's nice to see I have it in me to successfully pull off a last ditch effort, it's disappointing that I let the situation reach the point where a last ditch effort was necessary.

With less than 8,000 words to go, I'm going to try to ride yesterday's momentum and cross the finish line by tomorrow night.

I hate playing catch up. While there is satisfaction in coming from behind, it doesn't match the satisfaction of retaining the lead. The end result is the same in both cases, but the paths are very different. The former is the path of anxiety; the latter is the path of relief.

Today is the eleventh day of NaNoWriMo. Of those eleven days, four have been writing days. I fear I'm setting myself up for a Hail Mary effort that may never materialize. Do I really have an 8,000-word day in me like I did four years ago? Or do I have four 3,000-word days in me? I've never done that before. I may still never do it.

The last thing I want is a situation similar to what the Indianapolis Colts faced tonight against the San Diego Chargers. After being down by 23 points, the Colts came back to within 2 points of the Chargers. With less than two minutes left to play in the fourth quarter, Indianapolis got itself into field goal range. All they needed was a 29-yard field goal from Adam Vinatieri. When he kicked the football high and wide to the right, they lost the game. It was a horrible way to lose.

If I want any chance of continuing this comeback and avoiding the same fate as the Colts, I need a good writing day tomorrow. The sooner I can get back on pace or even ahead of the pace, the better I will feel and the better my chances will be of success.

I have currently written 1,149 words. I am satisfied with three of them, which is a pretty good percentage as far as my writing is concerned. I'm still far behind, but the past two days haven't been the most conducive for prolificacy (it's a word, but am I using it correctly?). Since I was rather stumped as to where to begin, I decided to follow two minor characters to start the story. With any luck, they will lead me to the main characters and the plot before I reach the end. Below the fold is an excerpt of what I've written so far.

Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement; then it becomes a mistress, and then it becomes a master, and then a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster, and fling him out to the public.

I heard this Winston Churchill quote while watching The Complete Churchill this morning. If the documentary is to be believed, he said this shortly after winning the 1953 Nobel Prize in Literature.

Today is Day 6 of NaNoWriMo. Your average novelist's word count is hovering around 8,333 (still in the toy/amusement phase). Your above-average novelist's word count is somewhere around 50,003 (the monster has already been slain). To preserve the writing world's equilibrium, I have kept my word count to a minimum. To be exact, it's zero. Little can be done to make it any more minimal.

It has taken every ounce of restraint and patience I possess to postpone the adventure these past five days, but after hearing Winston's words, I'm close to breaking. Even my daily dose of procrastinezene (a rare over-the-counter motivation relaxant) is proving ineffective against such inspirational sentiments.

Since it would be imprudent to try to catch up in one valiant effort (10,000 words in a day is possible, but dangerously so), I plan to get back on track in a more measured manner. The goal is to be at 20,000 words by Day 12, seven days from now. That works out to 2,857 words or two hours of focused creativity each day. If I'm successful, I'll be back to average in a week. By then, my novel should be in full mistress phase and well on its way to becoming my master. That's something to look forward to, right?

If you've already started your novel, then good job and don't stop! If you haven't started, it isn't too late to jump on the bandwagon and participate. It's something we can all suffer through together!

Like Rich, I'm looking forward to National Novel Writing Month (a.k.a. NaNoWriMo), which starts in another 19 days and 12 hours.

The challenge of writing a 50,000-word novel in 30 days looks enticing. It always does from this distance. As the days drop away, though, enticement will slowly turn to dread. It's inevitable. By NaNoWriMo Eve (or HalloWriMo as I like to call it), I'll want to do anything but write a novel. Of course, it will be too late by then.

Actually, it's already too late. By writing this entry, I have unwittingly committed myself to accepting the challenge. Perhaps if I sent a penguin five minutes back in time to distract myself from writing this entry, I could get out of it. All it would require is a quick trip to the zoo to find one ordinary penguin with extraordinary abilities.

While I work out a few details, I should mention this will be my fifth year participating in NaNoWriMo. Unlike the previous four years, I actually have a kernel of an idea for a story. Normally, that would be a good thing, but I have a feeling it will only make reaching the word count goal extremely difficult. The fact that the kernel contains a couch, a rancher, vampire cows, and an evil pizza maker is a huge reason why.

Despite that, I'm still looking forward to NaNoWriMo. At least that's the story I'm sticking to until I find that penguin.

I was reading the NaNoWriMo forums the other day and came across the topic of Terry Pratchett as inspiration. The thread began with the following post...

"So, who here considers Terry Pratchett a major source of inspiration for anything humourish or full of wit? I find him an excellent fount of satrical skill. I've never really met anyone else who reads Pratchett and draws from him. Anybody?"

The first thing that struck me was the word humourish, which I took to mean something that isn't humorous, but is almost, but not quite like humor. It's like hilaritish or amusish, but more elegant and accurate in its description.

The second thing that struck me was how contributors to the thread immediately took the word inspiration to mean influence. Instead of saying how Pratchett inspired or motivated them to write something funny, they gave examples of how his writing influenced or crept into their writing. It seemed that instead of inspiring a new generation of clever and original humorists, the creator of Discworld had inadvertently hatched a legion of Pratchett clones with an unbridled affinity for footnotes.

That's when my overactive imagination came to life...

I reached 50,000 words around 9:30 Thanksgiving evening, but was unable to officially validate it until this morning.

• spellchecking
• surfing the net for research purposes
• surfing the net for procrastination purposes
• referring to previous chapters of the story to check for consistency
• knowing my exact word count as I typed

By Day 8 or 9, I was looking for a way to combat these opportunities. That's when I found a word processor called Writeroom, which essentially re-creates the simple writing environment of my PDA on my iMac.

It's a nifty little program and I'm actually using it right now to type this entry. It helps keep the distractions away. By the way, one of my resolutions for the coming year will be to increase my resistance to distractions.

As I've done in previous years, here are some of this year's NaNoWriMo statistics. Last year's statistics are shown in parentheses:

Words written: 50,272 (50,165)
Hours of writing: 40.75 (34.75)
Highest one-day count: 3,918 (3,906)
Lowest one-day count: 0 (0)
Percent of novel written on my PDA: 0 (67)
Least productive day of the week: Friday (Monday)
Number of writing days: 22 (23)
Number of zero-word days: 1 (4)
Cups of coffee consumed (above "normal"): 7 (27)
Pounds of Skittles eaten: 0.25 (0.35)

For those still writing steadily towards the finish line... Good job so far! Keep up the good work! Remember to stretch before and after every intense typing session and stay hydrated. The last thing you want is to get into a good groove and suddenly cramp up.

Every word counter has its quirks. Ours usually errs on the generous side. If you want to see how many words our counter thinks you have, you can upload your manuscript here for an official count.
- from NaNoWriMo's Word Count page.

If you're participating in NaNoWriMo this year and have been diligently updating your word count on the site (for bragging rights, or, in my case, to boost my region's word count so California: South Bay no longer trails Kansas or Holland & Belgium), then you probably know there are two ways to update it.

The first is the Honor System method. This requires John Q. Novelist to type a number into a simple text box - presumably the number of words he actually wrote (not the number he should have written or thought about writing) for his novel.

The second way is the Verified method. This requires Jane Q. Novelist to upload her manuscript as a plain text file to NaNoWriMo's word counter. They trust she's uploading her own manuscript and not one she found on Project Gutenberg.

During the first week of November, I updated my word count using the first method. It was only four digits, so it was no trouble. But by the second week, my count was five digits long, which was, I felt, one digit too many to ask my tired fingers to type on a daily basis, so I migrated to the second method.

Instead of entering that troublesome fifth digit, I converted my novel to a text file, hit the browse button on the website, clicked down through the various branches of the file directory, clicked back up after following the wrong limb, clicked down another one until I found the file, and uploaded my 15,051-word novel for counting. No trouble. Their word counter worked its magic and updated my word count to 15,049.

It was only off by two words, so I didn't give it a second thought. I blindly accepted the counter's "quirks". Although it didn't err on the "generous side" as they claimed, I wasn't going to worry about a pair of words that likely got bored while waiting to be counted and went joyriding instead.

But over the last week, every time I uploaded my novel to their counter, more words disappeared. Earlier this evening, I uploaded my latest version and the word counter claimed I had 30,003 words, which is nothing to cry about, but what you don't know is that I submitted a 30,057-word manuscript. A whopping 54 words were missing.

Something more than a mere quirk was responsible for their disappearance and I wanted answers. I spent the next two hours sleuthing. I searched everywhere for clues, but only found dead ends. It was only when I stopped to unload my socks from the dryer when the answer hit me. It was so obvious. There must be a word gremlin inhabiting the counter.

It may seem like a stretch, but it was a reasonable stretch, as I soon learned. A quick check of the The Observer's Book of Monsters confirmed my seemingly outlandish theory.

According to the book, the NaNoWriMo Word Gremlin lives in the counter's lint trap (apparently, the contraption was created using old Maytag parts). The creature hibernates eleven months out of every twelve, but awakens each November to feed on redundant expressions, decorate its nest with extra commas, and insulate its bedding with fresh interjections of laughter (ha ha, hee hee, ho ho ho).

There's no known way of killing or eradicating the gremlin, so the only actions a novelist can take to minimize word loss is to omit needless words and keep character laughter to a minimum, which is disappointing because I was looking forward to writing a comma-intensive prison break scene involving inarticulate convicts and canisters of nitrous oxide.

So, a word of advice to novelists out there: Always write more words than you need and beware of the NaNoWriMo Word Gremlin.

I passed the 25,000-word mark earlier today. To mark the occasion, here is another excerpt from the novel. I apologize in advance for any roughness or blandness. This is but a rough draft and it's below the fold…

Today is the first day of the second week of NaNoWriMo, the usual point in the journey when the story you're writing sputters, the disbelief and denial drive disengages, the rubber band powering your creative engine slackens, and just when you think it couldn't get any worse, the right tire comes off and rolls into a ditch dug specifically for self-detaching tires.

Things look so bad, so bleak, you contemplate abandoning the heap of junk, hitching a ride home, and consoling yourself with a gallon of chocolate ice cream and fresh episodes of Lost, reruns of Jeeves and Wooster, and nonstop news reports about cabinet resignations, election results and pop diva divorces.

This is what you're thinking as you stare at the hopeless wreck sitting in the middle of the road. You give the story a swift, parting kick. You turn to leave, but as you do, the wind picks up, blows dust in your face, and temporarily blinds you. Impulsively, you close your eyes. You look away.

The wind dies suddenly; you reopen your eyes and find yourself seeing the world through a film of dust. And through the film, your story doesn't look so bad. Well, that's not true. It still looks bad, but not hopelessly so. It can be fixed. You can fix it.

Reinvigorated, you pop the trunk and grab the only tools you'll need: the Car Jack of Optimism and the Duct Tape of Delusion. In no time, you reattach the right tire and transform your clunky, dull gray Yugo of a story into a sleek, chrome blue Yugo of a story that runs. (Ah, the magic of chrome blue duct tape.)

With a smug smile of satisfaction, you toss the jack and tape in the trunk, hop in the driver's seat, yelp as a coil spring breaks through the seat fabric and stings you in the bum, and happily (those are tears of joy welling up in your eyes) continue on your NaNoWriMo journey.

The name of this entry is the tentative name of my novel. It's French for "serials". My thought is to write a series of short stories, each focusing on a different character, but in each successive story, the reader will see connections developing between the characters. The more ridiculous or convoluted the connection, the better. The final story will draw the characters together in one major event. My ultimate hope is for it to be a parody of movies like Crash, Magnolia and Love Actually or television shows like Lost, The Nine, Six Degrees and Heroes, but right now, I'm drawing blanks.

I'm only six thousand words into the novel and I'm already in trouble. Actually, I was already in trouble six words in, but felt too much was invested to turn back, so I pressed on. I'm a little over a tenth of the way through the "story", in terms of word count, and the plot has twisted three times. Maybe I should change the name of the novel to something more appropriate - like Pretzel.

Today is the first day of NaNoWriMo (which I'm officially doing) and NaBloPoMo (which I'm unofficially attempting). I heard about National Blog Posting Month from Elkit. The challenge is pretty straightforward: post at least one entry a day during November. I'm going to give it a try despite knowing full well that every word that appears here this month is one less word in my NaNo novel. At the end of this sentence, my novel-to-be will have a word deficit of 82.

As usual, I started my novel with no idea of what I wanted to write or how I was going to write it once I had an idea. Luckily, that technicality didn’t stop me from reaching my first day goal of 2,000 words. Below the fold is an excerpt from today's effort...

Today is a special day. It's not only Halloween, it's also NaNoWriMo Eve. In the spirit of The O.C. - a show I no longer watch and sadly don't seem to miss, but will continue to make reference to long after it's hip or appropriate (like now) - I've decided to combine the two non-holidays into one super non-holiday. Therefore, I officially proclaim today HalloWriMo!

Wait... maybe it would be better if I try the other combination. Ahem. Therefore, I officially proclaim today NaNoWeen! Uh, no... let's stick with HalloWriMo.

Anyway, since the local kids will be taking care of the Halloween half of today - wearing costumes, wandering through the neighborhood and asking for free goodies from complete strangers, I'm gladly shouldering responsibility for the NaNoWriMo half of things.

Instead of passing out fun size candy this year, I'll be passing out fun size thesauri to the trick-or-treaters who come knocking. I'll also be covering the house with disposable tarps in anticipation of the egging that is sure to follow, result, ensue and come after.

On the front doorstep are two pumpkins I specifically carved for the combined celebration. One depicts a flaming typewriter. The other depicts Stephen King, the most prolific, scary-looking author I could think of after an intense three seconds of brainstorming.

Thanks to the magic of GarageBand, instead of playing the same old tape of spooky sound effects, I've created an mp3 that is certain to send the children (and parents) screaming. Imagine the staccato of hunt and peck typing set against the audio backdrop of a torrential rainstorm periodically punctuated by a clap of thunder or the howl of a werewolf. Layered on top of this is a voice, not unlike Vincent Price's, reading an exceptionally awful 50,000-word excerpt from the NaNo novel I wrote last November. That reminds me, I need to buy earplugs on the way home.

Of course, after the parade of candy-seeking-thesaurus-receiving youngsters dies down and I've disposed of the yolk-drenched tarps, it will be time to get down to the business of preparing myself for this year's novel-writing challenge. Preparation primarily involves extracting every memory related to the past three NaNoWriMos and placing them in the Pensieve I keep tucked away in the hall closet.

I understand Apple already has a sleek, portable version of the handy contraption. J.K. Rowling filed a lawsuit preventing them from calling it an iPensieve, so the company chose to call it an iPod instead. That may explain why the people you see wearing the popular devices in public stare so vacantly into space. Music isn't going in, memories are coming out.

Anyway, good luck to all those participating in this year's NaNoWriMo! May your words and creativity flow freely. And lest I forget, Happy HalloWriMo!

Because I intend to make August my most prolific month ever (in terms of the number of entries I post, not the number of words I write, which is ironic considering the topic of this entry), I just wanted to let everybody know that NaNoWriMo has jumped on the bandwagon and now has a blog of its own. Only ninety days until the 50,000-word novel challenge begins!

I reached 50,000 words around 1:30 in the morning on Sunday. It would've made sense to wait until later Sunday morning (maybe after eight hours of sleep and a cup of coffee) to cross that imaginary finish line, but when one is so close that he or she can hear the imaginary crowd cheering, it's hard to stop. That vision alone should have been a sign that it was past my bedtime because as everybody knows, at that hour, even imaginary people are sound asleep.

This year's experience was different from those of previous years. Two years ago, I relied heavily on write-ins to motivate me. Sitting in the same room as others as we struggled individually, together, spurred me on. Last year, I relied heavily on adventure. The word count seemed easier because I focused on hitting 30 cafes in 30 days (which I later revised to 25 Cafes in 27 Days after the fact).

This year, I visited eight cafes, wrote a third of the novel on an actual computer (not my trusty Palm V) and forgot to kill Cliff. The only write-in I attended was on the first day of the month. While I've enjoyed the feeling of camaraderie I've gotten from write-ins, I've disliked the fact that my productivity has dropped with each successive gathering. Perhaps I'll feel differently next year.

Instead of relying on write-ins or adventure to keep me going this time around, I relied on myself, which feels good to say now, but definitely didn't feel good while I was going through it. Writing in isolation may work well for great authors, but it doesn't work so well for an ordinary scribbler like me. I need fresh air, sunlight, a cup of coffee, a little music and the general murmur of conversation.

I suppose the question now is if I will participate in NaNoWriMo next year. If I do, I suppose I should add a twist, make the challenge more difficult. Maybe next year I'll start with a plot instead of stumbling upon it halfway through. I recently read an interview with the producers of Lost where they describe their show as a road trip. They know they want to get from Los Angeles to New York City and they know, in general, the major cities they want to hit along the way. They just don't know the exact route they'll be taking. Adopting their road trip analogy, I already know I want to get from San Jose to Cooperstown. I just have to figure out a way to keep myself from accidentally ending up in Rio de Janeiro as I did this year.

As I've done in previous years, here is NaNoWriMo 2005 in numbers. Last year's statistics are shown in parentheses:

Words written: 50,165 (50,151)
Hours of writing: 34.75 (34.67)
Highest one-day count: 3,906 (4,560)
Lowest one-day count: 0 (280)
Percent of novel written on my PDA: 67 (96)
Least productive day of the week: Monday (Friday)
Number of writing days: 23 (27)
Number of zero-word days: 4 (0)
Cups of coffee consumed (above "normal"): 27 (27)
Pounds of Skittles eaten: 0.35 (0.5)

Congratulations to all of those novelists who have already finished. For everybody else who hasn't reached the finish line yet, keep it up! Keep going! As of right now, you still have about 36 hours to go, which is plenty of time to write 50,000 words.

"That's the way it crumbles... cookie-wise."

I happened to watch parts of Billy Wilder's The Apartment this weekend on PBS. It starred Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine and won an Oscar for Best Picture in 1960. I loved the satire of the film and found it helped with my novel... procrastination-wise.

Speaking of which, consistency has been a problem this past week... writing-wise. I either have lacked the motivation or have been easily distracted by computer problems or Lost podcasts. The result has been three zero-word days. The nice cushion I built early in the month is gone. Today, I'm hoping for some heroics to get ahead of the daily quota again.

Over the last couple of days, I've been thinking about my novel... description-wise. I've been searching for the perfect "something meets something" label. As far as I can tell, my novel is The O.C. meets Timeline meets The Da Vinci Code. With any luck, it will all meet the Recycle Bin in another week.

Just in case I don't get another chance to post today, I wish you all a happy and tasty tomorrow, Thanksgiving-wise and turkey-wise, respectively. I leave you with one of my other favorite quotes from the movie.

"Ya know, I used to live like Robinson Crusoe. I mean shipwrecked among 8 million people. And then one day I saw a footprint in the sand and there you were."

With respect to NaNoWriMo, Thursday and Friday were drought days for me. There were plenty of dark clouds, but the resulting rain was minimal, a whole 347 words. The storm finally arrived yesterday. I hope it continues for a few days.

As you may have noticed, the progress meter is gone. Apparently, the site hosting it ran out of bandwidth and took it down, which bummed me out. I was rather fond of it. Anyway, as a poor man's substitute, I replaced it with simple, manually updated word count. It not only counts days and words, but also the number of hours and cups of coffee required for this year's effort.

I'm still not clear where the story is going. I have many characters running around, each receiving equal time in the spotlight. I don't know if I was aiming for an ensemble piece like Love Actually, but it seems to be the novel's trajectory so far (without the charm and humor of the mentioned movie). Here is an excerpt from Thursday's writing:

They pulled Abel up to the beach and dropped him on the sand. He didn’t move. Johnny said, "Wait, I don't think he's breathing."

Unfortunately, a shark ate Abby three hours later.

It's dark and drizzly outside. It's also Monday. I don't know why, but I feel like scoring things today, so on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the bad and 10 being the good, I'd give this Monday a 4.

This morning, I had a hot cup of coffee, a tasty bowl of oatmeal (with brown sugar and maple syrup) and some peaches. I'd give breakfast a 7. And since the commute has been so smooth and the light rail is actually running on schedule, I'll give it an 8. Things are copacetic.

Over the weekend, I wrote approximately 4,000 words for NaNoWriMo. I'd give myself an 8 for effort, but a 3 for originality. I've been trying to develop creative plot twists, but everything seems so predictable. So far, my story has as many surprises as a merry-go-round. What I need is a merry-go-round that dumps water on people and plunges a hundred feet without warning.

I did half of my writing on Saturday, at the Il Fornaio cafe in Carmel, which I'd give a 9. Although it is an enclosed space, the place feels open and airy with its octagonal shape, towering walls and canopies hung high to diffuse the natural light shining through the glass ceiling.

I'd give a 6 to Orchard Valley Coffee in Campbell where I did the rest of my writing on Sunday. The place was bustling with activity during the Farmers' Market, which was great, but it just felt darker than usual inside, like a cave. Despite the large storefront windows, there wasn't enough sunlight for my liking.

I watched two DVDs over the weekend: The Eiger Sanction and Dogtown and Z-Boys.

The Eiger Sanction was a Clint Eastwood film from the 1970s. The official synopsis claims the movie is about a retired assassin (Eastwood) who comes out of retirement for one last mission, which just happens to involve killing an enemy assassin while climbing the Eiger, a mountain in the Swiss Alps. What the movie is really about is climbing the Eiger. All that other stuff is just an implausible pretext to fill the ninety minutes preceding the climb. The dialogue was unbearable, but the climbing sequences were fantastic. As a serious spy thriller, I give it a 3. As a spoof of a serious spy thriller, I give it a 7.

Dogtown and Z-Boys is a documentary about skateboarding. In the 70s, a group of teens revolutionized skateboarding by incorporating crazy surfing moves into their skateboarding style. Twelve guys and girl made up the Zephyr Skating Team (a.k.a. the Z-Boys) and they all grew up in Dogtown, an area that encompassed parts of Santa Monica and Venice, California. The insights by the various members were hit or miss, but the archival footage and photos were amazing. Overall, I'd give it a solid 6.

Well, that's all I have time to write this morning. I think this entry deserves a score of 4. I hope tomorrow's note is better.

On Monday night, while I slept, an enthusiastic group of writers sat in a diner and waited for midnight to arrive so they could get the earliest possible start on NaNoWriMo. By the time I awoke, they were a few thousand words ahead of me.

As I sat down to begin my novel last night, I must admit to feeling somewhat behind those that had taken an early lead. I had to remind myself that this was a race against the calendar, not against other people. Before I began typing, I refocused on the game plan. My game plan is simple: write at least 1,700 words a day in a fun and relaxing environment.

Yesterday, I wrote on the train to Mountain View, in Books Inc. while eating a chicken Caesar salad, at the write-in on the second floor of the Red Rock Coffee Company and on the light rail train home. By the end of Day 1, I had logged a decent number of words and commuter miles. Here is an excerpt:

Mayor Grewsome moved his lips, silently reciting the entire speech from the beginning and upon finding the spot where he left off, assumed a more authoritative position in his hardwood recliner. He sipped his vodka martini and continued, "The first mission they built was Santa Beyonce, the mission you would be able to see from this very deck if the Mayor's Efficiency were ten stories taller and we were facing west and it was light outside and the mission still existed."

"Oh, they're not for the bells, they're for the organ. It is twenty stories tall and requires a dozen men to operate it. I understand that certain chords are strictly forbidden since they would cause irreparable damage to the building. I also understand the church prohibited the organists from playing Handel's Messiah until they finds a way to cut the number of fatalities by at least half."

• Coffee
• Skittles
• An MP3 player (loaded with songs) or your own personal rock band
• Every waking moment At least an hour a day
• A computer or laptop with a working spacebar and at least one functioning letter key
• A comfortable chair, but not so comfortable as to cause sleepiness
• Ten fingers (one minimum)
• One brain (half minimum)

It's Monday morning and I'm on the northbound train to work. Today is also Halloween, but nobody onboard is wearing a costume. I would be disappointed, but since I'm not wearing a costume either, I suppose I have no right to be.

Of course, I'm not completely lacking Halloween spirit. Last night, I bought a couple bags of Skittles fun packs to hand out tonight. I hope to get home before all the children finish their rounds so that I can see what is hip and fashionable in the world of kids' costumes. If I miss the crowd, I guess that will mean more Skittles for me. (Note to self: Skip the train and walk home.)

I also bought a plastic pumpkin bucket to hold the candy because it was a whole dollar cheaper than a plastic candy bowl. Now, you're probably thinking, "Holy smokes, he's a stingy one for buying a bucket instead of a legitimate bowl!" But I beg to disagree. I'm merely being cost-conscious about the candy container. If I were stingy, I would get home early, trick or treat through the neighborhood with my pumpkin bucket and then pass out the candy I collected, keeping the Skittles for myself.

Besides being Monday and Halloween, this is NaNoWriMo Eve. Writers around the world are eagerly awaiting the stroke of midnight to begin writing or procrastinating. Since I'll be soundly asleep at midnight, go ahead and include me in the latter group. If anybody happens to know what my novel will be about this year, please tell me. The sooner I find out, the sooner I can start procrastinating.

I'm currently sitting on the sunny side of the train. Usually, it would be dark outside, but falling back an hour gave the sun a sixty-minute head start today. I can feel its warmth through the window. With the train also heated, it feels comfortable here. Happiness is a toasty train on a cold October morning.

Like Halloween and Christmas, people have started celebrating NaNoWriMo earlier every year. November is still two weeks away, but I've already seen houses in the neighborhood with NaNo decorations up.

One house had strings of lighted typewriters framing its windows and a seasonal flag that read, "I'll Sleep in December". As usual, the neighbor across the street had to do one better. On their lawn, they had an eight-foot inflatable snowman typing on a laptop. When they turn off the fan, the snowman collapses in a giant heap the same way your typical NaNo participant does after a lengthy writing session.

Which reminds me, if you happen to see a poor soul sprawled on the front lawn with a PowerBook laying nearby, be kind and help him or her to the front door. If he or she can't be roused, gently drag the exhausted writer off the grass before the sprinklers come on. If all else fails, at least save the PowerBook. Trust me, the drenched novelist will be eternally grateful to you for rescuing his or her word count hard work.

The most inspiring NaNoWriMo display I've seen so far was the house with the traditional Joshua tree in the front window. Tiny note cards with character sketches and story ideas hung from its branches. A small sprinting figure carrying a large pencil stood atop its highest branch. On the front door, an antique, copper word meter rested in the center of an autumn wreath. Candlelight flickered through the flaming typewriter pattern carved into a pumpkin on the front porch.

I was staring at the beauty of it all when I noticed the sound of a piano coming from the house. I took a few steps towards the porch to listen more closely and heard children performing the rarely sung NaNo carol, "No Plot? No Problem!" It begins:

If your story makes no sense,
That's no reason to feel tense.
If your narrative's a mess,
Keep on writing, don't obsess.

No plot? No problem!
No plot?! No problem!!

I don't remember the rest of the lyrics, but my favorite verse is the one that has to do with character development and camels. That aside, seeing all of the excitement building around the annual writing event has lifted my spirits. This will be my third time participating in NaNoWriMo and I'm looking forward to seeing what this year's cornucopia of words has in store.

The following is practice for NaNoWriMo, which begins in twenty-six days.

The sun rose over the sea of skyscrapers and gave the smog an attractive tint. The wind picked up and caused litter cyclones. In an unusual convergence of corporate, municipal and natural forces, a fast food chain paid the city to sponsor the swirling trash at its busiest intersections.

On a particularly gusty corner, a pair of legs, clothed in oversized cargo pants (with precise rips), trudged through a tornado of chicken sandwich boxes and large soda cups. The legs belonged to Lenny, who, once he removed the cheeseburger wrapper (and cheese) from his face, looked far from loving it.

He rushed, in a leisurely sort of way, into one of the high rise buildings. With determination, he casually strolled through the lobby, past the empty security desk, to the elevators and pressed the call button. In two heartbeats, a bell chimed and one of the elevators opened. Lenny stepped in and pulled a post-it note and red pen from one of his baggy pockets.

This morning, he was dressed sloppily, as he was every morning. His coworkers attributed his appearance to laziness, but he knew better. He had to wake an hour early to look like he just woke up. His shoes were untied and his hair was uncombed. More accurately, his hair appeared uncombed. In truth, it took hairspray and enough saliva to lick thirty envelopes to make the cowlicks stay. He took great care not to shave and made sure to leave most of his shirt untucked. A deliberately hastily made peanut butter sandwich threatened to escape from his strategically unzipped backpack. Were one to notice his unusual attention to carelessness, one would have known Lenny's true nature. He was anally apathetic.

He pressed the button for Floor 108 and tried his best to slouch properly. He glanced at his reflection in the silver elevator wall and gave himself a disapproving look. He shook himself to loosen his muscles and tried again. After two more shakes, he felt sufficiently slouchy. As the elevator began its ascent, he eagerly practiced an expression of sheer boredom.

The elevator chimed at the second floor, the doors opened and another man entered. He was in his early thirties, nearly the same age as Lenny, but was clean-shaven and had slicked back, saliva-free hair. He carried a briefcase and was primly dressed in a pressed blue pinstripe suit. His tie had tiny elephants and donkeys on it. The animals were shown in various positions that suggested the owner of the tie wasn't a fan of a certain two-party system. He nodded at Lenny and pulled a red pen and post-it note from his jacket pocket.

"Lenny."

"George."

"Ready?"

"Ready."

They leaned against the sides of the car with pens poised over their post-it notes. The doors closed and the elevator accelerated upward. As people entered and pressed buttons, both men glanced at the lighted button, intently scanned their scraps of paper, and occasionally made marks.

As the car climbed, the tension between the two seemed to mount. George looked grim while Lenny aggressively tried to appear unaffected.

At the 94th floor, a senior executive entered. Lenny recognized the man, shifted and assumed his game face. George glanced at Lenny and immediately knew something was up. It was never a good sign or a comfortable sight to see Lenny manage an expression of nervous boredom. He knew Lenny was close, but he was close, too. It all depended on what the man did next.

They watched with anticipation as the executive's finger zeroed in on a button. 98? 101? 104? The finger hovered over 104 for a second and Lenny let slip a squeak.

Then the man pressed 103. Lenny gaped, but quickly covered his shock by gaping nonchalantly.

George scanned his post-it note feverishly. With a shout, he marked it and waved it wildly in the air.

"Bingo!"

The idea was to stay creatively motivated and caffeinated at the same time. The goal was to try 30 different cafes around the Bay Area in November. Falling short was the most disappointing part of my NaNo experience. To think, had I made it to those last five cafes, I could've enjoyed five more cups of coffee. It's sad. I know.

One other disappointment was not making it to Capitola Coffee Roasters. It served as the "home away from home" for some of my characters before their big adventure in Yosemite. I hope to fit in a visit before the end of the year.

1. Lowry's Irish Coffee House, San Jose
2. Pacific Java Cafe, Pacifica
3. Y'a Bon Espresso, Morgan Hill
4. Plumes Coffee House, Monterey
5. Fog City Java, Pacifica

Lowry's is small, clean, not crowded and offers free wireless internet. It has porch seating and a homey feeling. It doesn't have a wide selection of coffee, but what they have is good and comes in a glass.

Pacific Java is an airy, two-story cafe with seating in its loft. It has a variety of drinks and pastries. It also has free coffee refills, which is a big plus. They play uninspiring music, but I like the overall feel of the cafe.

Y'a Bon Espresso is close to home, but feels miles away. The music and interior decorating fit its theme of New Orleans. It's easy to lose yourself there and the coffee is excellent.

Plumes offers delicious slow drip coffee in the middle of historic downtown Monterey and Fog City Java in Pacifica, though small and somewhat dingy, offers this view.

Honorable mentions include University Cafe (Palo Alto), Mission City (Santa Clara) and Cafe Borrone (Menlo Park). They can be noisy at times, but they have an energy about them and long hours. If you're looking for something cozy with tasty soup, I'd recommend Flower Flour in San Jose.

• Kalisa's La Ida Cafe, Monterey
• Espresso Garden & Cafe, San Jose
• Starmars Cafe, San Jose

Kalisa's was cramped like a storage closet. Espresso Garden, with its white tablecloths, felt like an uninviting restaurant. Starmars was empty and the pumpkin spice cafe au lait the owner recommended was, in a word, nasty.

A few cafes remain on my On Deck list. I hope to visit them soon. The cold month of December seems like the perfect time. Thank you to those who gave recommendations. I appreciate it.

Note: Sorry if everything is too brief. I tried to be helpful, but keep the length blog-readable. If you have questions about a particular cafe, let me know.

On Saturday night, this year's novel crossed the invisible 50,000-word finish line. At the 50,000th word, which was and for the curious, my brain shut off, but my fingers continued typing another 151 words on their own.

My 30 Cafes in 30 Days went completely astray thanks to Thanksgiving. It turned out to be 25 Cafes in 27 Days. I'll write more about it in another post.

Otherwise, like the blue squirrel, I'm grinning from Viking helmet to furry tail. I reached the numerical goal, but not The End. There are a few thousand words and countless rewrites and edits separating me from completing the story, but as far as NaNoWriMo is concerned, I'm done.

For my inner statistician, here are some simply fascinating figures (previous year's tally is in parentheses):

Words written: 50,151 (50,140)
Highest one-day count: 4,560 (8,683)
Lowest one-day count: 280 (588)
Percent of novel written on my PDA: 96 (92)
Least productive day of the week: Friday (Sunday)
Number of writing days: 27 (18)
Number of zero-word days: 0 (12)
Cups of coffee consumed (above "normal"): 27 (18)
Pounds of Skittles eaten: 0.5 (2)

There was to be more than a photo entry on Friday, but I got into a creative funk and couldn't write anything that could escape the wrath of the evil backspace key. It was like a scene from Austin Powers...

Me: I was drinking my coffee and...
Backspace Key: Sh!
Me: But this is a good sto...
BK: Sh!
Me: But I...
BK: Sh! Want to hear something funny?
Me: (sigh) Okay...
BK: Sh!

My NaNo writing has slowed to a crawl over the last three days. Instead of keeping a steady pace, I've managed only a memo a day. On a Palm V, a memo holds about seven hundred words.

Yesterday, I knew I hit a new low when I wrote at a Starbucks and counted it as one of my cafes. Spending a day with the family has a way of limiting how far I can venture for coffee and alone time.

The streak of independent cafes lasted twenty days. I was disappointed to see it end, but consoled myself with a venti peppermint mocha. Nothing soothes the soul like twenty ounces of peppermint goodness.

During lunch, I'm writing at Starmars Cafe in downtown San Jose. I would visit Los Gatos, but it isn't close enough to the office. I want to hit a few of those cafes before November ends.

Today's strategy is to write memos sporadically throughout the day. A memo in the morning, maybe two at lunch, one in the afternoon and then three or so tonight. The goal is to reach 44,000 before the clock strikes midnight, which isn't impossible if done with the proper dose of coffee and Skittles or the help of a superhero with the ability to stop time.

Let's say a character in your novel needs chopsticks. Why? He or she might need to eat or build a fire or poke somebody asking why he or she needs chopsticks. Who knows? They're needed. What you should be asking is how to get them into your story. There's the easy way...

He grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the kitchen drawer.

That's succinct and plausible. A normal human being could very well keep a pair of chopsticks in the kitchen drawer. Readers expect this, which is exactly why it's wrong. Readers don't want the same old thing. They want original. They want unexpected. So, to improve your story, you might write instead...

He grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the bathroom hamper.

Now, that's original and unexpected. It also reveals something about your character to your readers. This is someone you don't borrow chopsticks from, but if you do, sterilize them.

While it's a good start, it really doesn't achieve the goal of this month, which is to maximize every opportunity to increase your word count. Forget succinct and plausible. Think verbose and convoluted.

He needed a pair of chopsticks. He rummaged through the bathroom hamper, but came up empty. He looked everywhere. It wasn't under his bed or in the DVD player like last time. He was losing hope. Out of desperation, he peeked in the kitchen drawer, but only found a phone, the garage remote and a pair of boxers.

There wasn't much time. The band would be practicing in ten minutes and it would be embarrassing to have to play the drums with his fingers. Again. A thought came to him. He opened the phone and hit the second button on speed dial.

"Splendid Dragon Gourmet Express? Yeah, I want an order of chicken chow fun for rush delivery. It's an emergency. And can you make sure the guy brings extra chopsticks? Preferably plastic. I got a splinter last time. Thanks."

See? Much better. Your character gets his chopsticks, your readers learn more about him and you have an astounding 140 words, instead of a measly 10. Everybody wins!

This was inspired by my own attempts to get a pair of chopsticks into my novel. I now have an ancient Chinese restaurant, a quirky owner with a mysterious past and a place where my characters can eat tasty dim sum. Oh, and chopsticks.

Hello and welcome to my world, where it's all NaNoWriMo, all the time. Okay, that isn't true, but my inner editor stepped away from the computer and I'm writing whatever comes to mind. It may be false, dumb or grammatically incorrect, but while he's away, the words are free to play.

My inner editor is going to have a cow when he returns from his coffee break. The first phrase that'll get his goat is the phrase "have a cow". The next phrase will be "get his goat".

While not every waking hour is spent obsessing thinking obsessing about NaNo, I've been spending an hour or two a day on it. That isn't true. I only wrote for thirty minutes yesterday. At lunch, I escaped to Mission City Coffee for a double almond joy and some quiet time. The place must have a creative current running through it because 700 words flowed from my fingers while I was there.

Conventional wisdom says that people should've written 16,667 words by Day 10 to be on pace to finish by November 30th. Conventional wisdom, of course, conveniently forgets about the power of procrastination and cramming.

Last year, I was counting on that power to pull me through. In ten days, I had racked up six zero-word days and my progress meter was hovering around 8,000. By Thanksgiving, I was ready to call on the power like He-Man, "By the power of Grayskull (or in my case, turkey and mashed potatoes), I have the power!"

During my first year, write-ins rescued me from falling hopelessly behind. Evenings at Orchard Valley and Coffee Society were potent shots of motivation. I discovered that companionship in a common cause and constant coffee were critical to my creativity. My inner editor is going to loathe that sentence.

My second year has been different and, in many ways, better because of three other Cs beyond companionship and coffee.

Consistency. Writing every day, however little and however crappy, feels good. Blogging should've taught me that by now, but I'm a slow learner.

Competition. My daily goal is 2,000 words. It's nice to have somebody who's keeping a similar pace. We're nudging each other along, neither of us wanting to fall too far behind, both of us wanting the other to keep up.

Cafes. By tonight, I'll have written in ten different cafes. It may seem silly, but wondering where I'm going to write tomorrow adds a sense of adventure to the process. The adventure isn't necessary, but it's fun.

Oops, I hear footsteps. It must be my inner editor. Time to make like jelly and jam. He's going to loathe that sentence, too.

On Tuesday, we had an election. On Wednesday, somebody was elected. That surprised me. I was fully anticipating having to wait until January to learn that the candidate I wanted in office had lost.

Yesterday, I read a number of blogs venting about the election, the reelected president and those who voted for him. People expressed many emotions: depression, disappointment, fear, frustration, hatred, hopelessness, pain, pessimism and, above all, the desire to move to Canada. It was all a bit overwhelming.

Last night, as I sat down to write the third installment of my NaNo-novel, all I could think about were their words. I wanted to put it out of my mind and continue with my story, but the ideas wouldn't flow. My muse was hiding, paralyzed by negative thoughts. With a little coffee and music, I finally convinced her to come out and play, but all she wanted to do was talk about the election.

Grateful she was even there, I allowed her to use my characters to express her opinions and fill the pages with her political rants. At one point, she strayed and went on a tangent about phlegm, but mostly, she stayed on topic and said what she wanted to say.

Today is Day 4 and my muse seems ready to return to the story of Johnny Beck and the Hike From Heck (the new working title, no more SMiRK). My word count is healthy and the goal for tonight is 2,100 words. It's ambitious, but my competitive spirit has kicked in and wants to keep up with those that have sprinted ahead. I'm looking forward to a productive Cupertino Write-In this evening.

My sister, who is also participating in NaNoWriMo, just emailed me a status report on her novel. She finally came up with a title: Nucular Families. Her muse must also have politics on the brain. So begins the 2004 edition of our sibling rivalry. If it's anything like last year, she'll let the title marinate for three weeks and bang out all 50,000 words during Thanksgiving, while the turkey is roasting, because it's just that easy for her. I think I need type faster.

Yesterday, as I stood on the cliffs of Capitola, I saw a sword-wielding Viking catch a wave. Goblins, caped crusaders and other costumed surfers cheered her on as she rode it in, waved her sword wildly and wiped out. It was a Halloween party with a local twist. I wonder if I'll see Santa and his elves surfing in December.

Halloween, a.k.a. NaNoWriMo Eve, was a day of rest for my fingers. This evening, they will furiously bang out approximately 1,700 words to meet the daily quota. To keep them happy, there will be a constant supply of coffee and Skittles on hand. If I can distract them long enough with caffeine and sugar, they might inadvertently write a story containing characters and a plot. That's the plan.

Some NaNo folks like to warn their readers that there will be a noticeable drop in blogging during November. Thanks to the power of procrastination, this journal will not suffer such production problems. In fact, if anyone detects more blabber than normal going on here, it's probably best to tap me on the shoulder and say, "Hey! Shouldn't you be writing a novel?"

1. Sundays at Orchard Valley Coffee in Campbell
2. Tuesdays at Books Inc. in Mountain View
3. Thursdays at Coffee Society in Cupertino

While those cafes are great, I wanted to use this month to find other nice coffee spots in the Bay Area. I thought it would be cool to try something called, "30 Cafes in 30 Days". The idea being that I'd write a bit of my novel at a different cafe each day. Due to circumstances that are certain to arise, I'm not excluding any Starbucks locations as possibilities, although I'd prefer independent cafes. Here is my impromptu itinerary for the first five days:

Day 1: Books Inc. - Mountain View
Day 2: Barefoot Coffee Roasters - Santa Clara
Day 3: Caffee, Kaffee, Vin - Morgan Hill
Day 4: Coffee Society - Cupertino
Day 5: Lowry's Irish Coffee House, San Jose

Besides Orchard Valley, I also have Mission City Roasting Company in Santa Clara and Cafe Nono's in San Jose on my short list. If anyone has suggestions of cafes in the area with good coffee and cozy atmospheres, please let me know. I'll be keeping track of this side project in the side column.

Just a day or so ago, I came across the trailer for A Very Long Engagement, an upcoming movie starring Audrey Tautou, best known for Amelie. She and the director of Amelie, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, collaborated on this new film, based on a novel by French author, Sebastien Japrisot. The trailer prompted me to check the book out from the library and the first sixty pages of the book have me eagerly awaiting the movie, which opens in selected theaters on November 26th.

Perhaps because of its simplicity, Japrisot had me hooked from the first sentence of his novel...

Once upon a time, there were five French soldiers who had gone off to war, because that's the way of the world.

Once upon a time. I dig that opening phrase. It recalls memories of fairy tales and childhood stories told many years ago. It feels like the impending story will reveal a world of magic and possibilities, although it takes place against the backdrop of war. It gives me hope that the heroine will still find her true love (her Prince Charming) alive, for he was reportedly "killed in the line of duty".

Once upon a time. I think those will be the first four words of my NaNo-novel. The insanity begins in a little over two days.

In his book, No Plot? No Problem!, Chris Baty writes:

While coffee is the most important thing, I would insert just behind it: Bag full of Skittles. No literary endeavor should go without tasting the rainbow. I'd argue that if you're not going to snack on anything healthy, like fruit, then you should at least snack on the next best thing: candy artificially flavored to taste like fruit.

In addition to being "good" for you, Skittles make natural novel aides. Let's say you've reached a roadblock in your story. A villainous henchman needs to meet an untimely and imaginative end, but you can't decide which way to off him. What do you do? In your handy notebook, write down your top five favorite possibilities and assign them each a color. For example:

How does Henchman B perish?

yellow) He suffers a massive heart attack after seeing a picture of the NaNoWriMo bunny.
green) A speeding ambulance runs him over.
purple) A ton of safety manuals falls from the sky and crushes him.
orange) He drowns in a vat of Odwalla orange juice.
red) He is nearly struck by an ambulance driven by the NaNoWriMo bunny who is too busy drinking Odwalla orange juice and reading a safety manual. He jumps out of the way, but accidentally and fatally impales himself upon the sword of a kid dressed as a samurai for Halloween.

Reach into your Skittles bag, pull one out and write the demise that corresponds to the chosen color. It's an effective decision-making tool that removes an obstacle, keeps your word count rising and rewards you with a "healthy" snack at the same time.

The most difficult part of creating a character for, say, a NaNo-novel, isn't determining his or her age, hair color or hobbies. It's not deciding on his or her favorite music or patching together a plausible biography. No, it's coming up with a decent name.

A character's name is important. It can set the personality and perception of the individual before his or her first sentence of existence. Last year, I had such a tough time with names. Some included: Car, Cliff, Debb, Green, Jett, Kay, Max, Min, Road and Tigg. Notice a pattern? I apparently gravitate towards weird, monosyllabic names that relate to transportation, statistics or feature double consonants. If Agatha Christie struggled as I did, we would all be reading about the great Belgian detective, Slope Trukk, and not Hercule Poirot. We'd be in trouble.

For this year's effort, still unofficially titled SMiRK, I'm recycling characters from last year, but giving them improved monikers. "Improved" meaning "normal". The main character, Tigg Smoops, will return as Johnny "Tigg" Erikson. His sidekicks, Green White and Car Partsen, will rejoin him as Timothy "Green" Tealeaf and Ethan "Car" Vimes. Tigg's love interest, Kay Eliminopy, will become Katherine "Kay" Eliminopy. I still like that last name.

Even now, as I look over their new names, I'm not entirely satisfied. My tiny gray cells begin to wonder how authors decide. Do they pick names from a hat? A phone directory? Their favorite players on the Boston Red Sox? Do authors spend as much time and consideration naming their characters as people do naming their children, pets or cars?

These thoughts were triggered partly by an assignment for tonight's creative writing class and partly by NaNoWriMo's Bay Area Kick-Off Extravaganza at the Rickshaw Stop in San Francisco last night. The founder, Chris Baty, was there to sign copies of his new book, No Plot? No Problem! and give an inspirational speech. Also, some of the usual blogging suspects attended, returning for second go at a novel in November. It all begins in ten days!

With the prospect of NaNoWriMo on the horizon and a few folks already discussing story ideas, I'm on the hunt for a few stray thoughts myself. As I was telling someone last night, if J.J. Abrams hadn't already created Lost, a show I'm head over heels about, that would have been the story I'd tell.

The current working title of my non-novel is "SMiLE", which is blatantly stolen from Brian Wilson's recent release. It took 37 years for SMiLE's completion, so I'm paying a small tribute to the masterpiece. I've listened to it repeatedly and it's hard to believe the musical soul of the album was created when the man was just 24-years-old.

Now that I'm thinking about it, I might revise my working title to "SMiRK" since whatever I accomplish won't be anywhere near "masterpiece" or "instant classic" status. And while I'm here, I might as well combine it with Abrams' show and retitle it something like "Lost in Your SMiRK". Hmm, I could then combine that with one of my favorite movies and call the whole thing "Raiders of the Lost SMiRK". Ah, the possibilities are endless. Don't mind me, just being a dork.

Yesterday, I ended up using the time I dedicate to this journal to edit a writing assignment. It's true. I recently signed up for a creative writing class through my town's community center. It's an eight-session course that meets two hours a week. We had our second session last night.

Our first assignment was to write three double-spaced pages of dialogue involving a conflict between two people. Because I was in a baseball state of mind, I decided to write a conversation between two guys, a Dodgers fan and a Giants fan, watching a game at the local bar. Fascinating, I know.

The writing and editing portion of the exercise was the easy part. Reading what I wrote to the group for critique was the difficult part. It was a small group, but I was still nervous. I rushed and stammered through the sentences, missing inflections and tripping over punch lines. Somehow I survived and received some pretty constructive comments.

Going in, I had these one-dimensional characters, voices with names, but no physical descriptions or personal histories. Nothing. Now I have some insight into how I can go beyond a simple baseball sketch and flesh out these two guys.

Our next assignment is to take the same characters, if possible, and write them into an action scene (think a fight or pursuit). I'll probably use two completely different characters and avoid baseball this time around. Maybe I'll go with a high-speed pedal boat chase. Who knows?

Part of my motivation for taking the class is to get myself psyched and better equipped for NaNoWriMo. Last year, I blissfully flew through the whole thing by the seat of my pants. The plot and characters shifted with the wind, which was acceptable for a freshman effort, but this time, I want something more focused and consistent.

Another part of my motivation is to work on my writing. This isn't to say that anybody reading this journal will see a marked improvement in my grammar, vocabulary or overall brilliance creativity. Quite the contrary. Readers should expect the quality of writing to suffer. The skeptical side of me believes the classes will be more detrimental than helpful, but we'll see how it goes.

Remember how my sister was also participating? Here is my account of what transpired since, for the most part...

Saturday afternoon:

Me: So, how many words do you have left?
Sis: (not looking up from her typing) 30,000.
Me: You've been slacking.
Sis: It's called work and a thesis.
Me: Excuses! I only have 900 left.
Sis: (gives me a scathing look) Still?
Me: (uncomfortable pause) I'll just go away now.

Sunday afternoon:

Me: So, how many words-?
Sis: 17,000. Hey! I have time to walk Fluffy and give him a bath.

Sunday, 10:00 PM:

Me: So, how-?
Sis: 5,000. Wasn't Arrested Development hilarious? Ooh, Lyon's Den is on!

She would finish an hour and fifteen minutes later. She is just scary good.

First off, congratulations to everyone who finished, be it with plenty of time to spare or only a few scant minutes remaining. You all are amazing.

The novel quietly crossed the 50,000-word threshold Saturday evening with little fanfare, only a smile and a sigh. I was determined to get it done a day early so that Sunday could be relaxing and free from writing.

The book's title was changed from "Huh?" to "Huh?!" for the sake of originality (who knew two others would choose the same name?) and to give it a sense of excitement. It is also very representative of the confusion most people would experience if they were to ever read my writing.

Through this month-long experience I was moody and reclusive and drank way too much coffee. Some of you are probably thinking, "And that is different... how?"

Finally, since I love statistics, here are some fun NaNoWriMo facts and figures:

Words written: 50,140
Highest one-day count: 8,683
Lowest one-day count: 588
Percent of novel written on my PDA: 92
Least productive day of the week: Sunday
Fingers still functioning (barely): 10
Number of writing days: 18
Number of zero-word days: 12
Cups of coffee consumed (above "normal"): 18
Pounds of Skittles eaten: 2

Instead of risking life, limb or wallet at the malls, I spent Friday writing at Orchard Valley Coffee in historic downtown Campbell. I would welcome a cafe like that close to home. It has late hours, great coffee, free wireless internet and a large open room containing artwork, couches and a fireplace. If only they played Bjork a little softer, it would be perfect.

Cliff finally died, off-page and around the 45,000-word mark. He grew from a cameo into a major character, but inevitably, his words were numbered. The real Cliff conditioned his inclusion in any novel end with the death of his literary incarnation. He wanted at least one of him to fall off a cliff and his wish was easily granted. The last few chapters of my story were already taking place in mountainous regions, so an accidental slip or intentional push was no trouble.

It's Saturday. I'm posting. It's early. I'm up. I'm close to finishing something. There are so many things wrong with this picture.

My perception of the facts...

Me: Guess what?
Sis: ...
Me: Guess what?
Sis: (annoyed) What!
Me: (proudly) I'm doing NaNoWriMo.
Sis: (yawns) Big whoop. So am I.
Me: You are? ... So, when did you start?
Sis: Thirty minutes ago.
Me: Ha! You'll never make it. It took me twenty days to get 25,000 words.
Sis: Whatever. I already have 2,000.
Me: D'oh!

• My sister is participating.
• She wrote 2,000 words in 30 minutes.
• Her "What!" can stop a conversation dead in its tracks.
• Sadly, I really say "D'oh!"

Sibling rivalry has raised the stakes. For all I know, she may be done tomorrow.

Somewhere between my second and third cups of coffee, I passed the 25,000-word mark. The mystical milestone of 33,000 words isn't so far away. Here is a slice...

He couldn't seem to look away. She wore a blue collared shirt, black slacks and a green apron. He conjectured it was a uniform, since the guy next to her wore the exact same outfit, which could have also meant they were having a really embarrassing day or were one of those couples who strangely enjoyed dressing alike.

Tigg said the name silently, allowing his lips to form the word. It sounded pretty in his head. He then realized she was looking at him. Had she seen him say her name? Hadn't he been taught it was rude to read with his mouth open?

This has grown to mean something more than a simple word count. It is now a challenge to my creative will and energy. It has become a confrontation with issues I have long avoided and considered taboo. It threatens my natural tendency to procrastinate, so my procrastination has sought refuge in other areas of my life.

Last night was the first time in more than a year I had a dream. I don't recall the details, but I awoke shivering and feeling unsettled. My mouth was raw and dry, which usually means I was talking in my sleep. The sheets were in complete disarray and bedding was on the floor.

Unresolved worries run rampant through my mind. I've been avoiding them during my waking hours, so they've come to visit me subconsciously. Avoiding them longer will only make things worse. The solution requires more courage, trust, forgiveness and humility than I've ever possessed.

No pressure. It's funny how a plotless story has managed to transform itself into a Pandora's box.

It's fine to create a hero who seeks the One. It's cruel to create a world for said hero and populate it with only the wrong ones. It's something I'm toying with as my story slowly progresses. I finally broke the 10,000-word mark yesterday. It's amazing (and scary) how much I can write without a real plot.

I have been unusually cruel to my characters, placing them in awkward situations, making them uncomfortable and causing them to squirm. It's similar to the way people mistreat their Sims by removing all of the toilets.

My main character, who remains unnamed and known only as MC (main character), has suffered the most. I almost wish I hadn't placed so much of myself in him. Almost. Anyway, here is another snippet from "Huh?"...

MC walked into the cafe, surveyed the room from the door and immediately spotted SK (sidekick), who was sitting on the plastic-covered sofa and browsing a magazine. He glanced over at the corner table where She normally sat, but was disappointed to see she wasn't there. An unknown man, who would be too much trouble to describe, occupied her chair instead.

He gave a nod to Fred, who was sporting a blue goatee and orange dreadlocks. Fred nodded in return and casually served up a cup of steaming hot coffee like it was a shuffleboard weight. The brown cup and saucer slowly rotated as it slid smoothly across the waxed counter and onto the floor, shattering upon impact. Nobody looked up.

Fred smiled sheepishly and gingerly carried the next cup over to the coffee table, taking great pains to place it on a coaster. MC thanked him and flopped himself down on the sofa beside SK.

Gazing thoughtfully out the large picture window, he asked, "Don't you wish the writer would give us more meaningful lines of dialogue?"

SK took a sip of his chai soy latte and reluctantly looked up from his magazine, which he read strictly for the articles. He lazily stared out the window, paused for effect and replied, "Nah. Who wants to hear us pontificate or go on about our angst? I say, give us more action! Give us more smut!"

Yesterday was the first real day of writing for me. I'm behind, but there is no need to panic right now. There will be plenty of time for that later.

In search of a little encouragement, I went to the Mountain View Write-In. I met some cool new people who are also struggling with this month-long challenge. It was also a pleasant surprise to see Elke there. Her writing game is on and she even has a NaNoWriMo blog with links to her novel-in-progress. I'm not so brave, but will share a smidgen of what I pass off as writing...

Simultaneous existence has always been problematic. Patience is a virtue, but one that most people lack. If humans had been more patient, they would have existed one at a time and lived very peaceful lives. There wouldn't be traffic congestion or mass hysteria or fights over who got the larger half of the cookie.

But instead of waiting their turn, groups of people decided to exist simultaneously. These groups would later be known as generations. Almost like clockwork, a new generation would come into existence every twenty years or so. This would go on for ages.

It's November. I don't know how it arrived so quickly, but I wish it had knocked first. The weather has been cold, wet and wonderful.

At the last minute, I went to a Halloween gathering in San Mateo on Friday. We had the aural pleasure of not one, but two people belting out karaoke renditions of Creed's "One Last Breath"