Yes, I promise, by the end of today you will have something completely unrelated to NaNoWriMo and, hopefully, lacking in any tone that could be construed as whiny, annoyed, agitated, pathetic, or irritating. It’s the least I can do, after all.

But… But! Stay with me!

I wanted to report that I am indeed still on track for NaNo. In spite of my better attempts to the contrary, I sat my derriere down last night and coughed up (that’s a milder word for the term I used last evening to my friend Karen, but hey… I’ll be nice) enough to bring me up to date and then some by a few hundred. Why this sudden ability? This fortress of strength?

It’s my husband. While I wouldn’t say that Michael hangs on my every word–which would be, let’s face it, kind of annoying–he’s consistently there when I need him most. I had a crappy day. A Crappy Crappy Day (capitals intentional). And I was admittedly feeling sorry for myself, which is a state I generally don’t suggest.

So, after dinner I informed Michael that I Was Not Under Any Circumstances Writing in the NaNoWriMo Book Because–and I Reiterate, BECAUSE–I Want to Kill it With Fire and, After Today, I’m Just Going To Play a Video Game.

Michael is a handsome guy, though he doesn’t believe this. He looked up at me with his tousled hair, blinking through his dark glasses, and raised an eyebrow over those remarkably blue eyes. “You signed up for this, you know,” he said. “It’s not like you’re not capable.”

Me: “But I don’t wanna!” (Or something to that effect; I do spend most of my time with a two year old, so it rubs off, y’know?)

Michael, shaking his head and smiling a little. “Well, it certainly could help you; you can work to a schedule, and that’s important.”

Me: “But I can make up for it all tomorrow! I write really fast!”

Then, just a look. A look that said: No, that’s not what this is about. This isn’t about Natania sprinting to the end at day 28 with 10K to go, and three hours to do it in. It’s about keeping the ideas fresh in your mind and plowing through because it’s discipline. And you’re not going to magically be able to discipline yourself if you give up on the fifth day.

So, I went downstairs. I capered around Albion a little while, belching, farting, and seducing various inhabitants (in Fable II, by the way, in case you think I’ve gone completely off my rocker). Then, I dutifully wen to the computer and finished my writing, and then some, just to say HA!

The writing is coming more easily now, as I’m shifting from the present-day our world stuff, which I think I’m just hideous at writing (I spend way too much time in worlds that aren’t real), and into the other-world portion. But it’s like someone turned a light on, for last night any way. Because Michael is completely and utterly right. It’s about doing it, even if you don’t feel like it, because you ought to. Sure, I’ve written a novel before, but never in a month. And I’m just not giving up.