Don't drink and write!

Hello, my lovelies!

One week into Nano and it's not looking good. Spewing out 50,000 words in a month is looking more and more like the writerly equivalent of climbing the North Face of the Eiger while wearing flip-flops... in winter.

Yeah. THAT difficult.

As we speak, I've only written 6,000 words. [Excuses: I didn't officially start until Monday, and I've spent this evening at the local walk-in centre (a sort of E.R. for non urgent out-of-hours medical cases) with my little boy who suddenly developed a rash, headache, and a stiff neck. He's okay, thank goodness! Just a harmless viral rash. as it turns out.]

I'm having real problems switching off my inner editor. What I need to do is sling the words onto the page and worry about prettying them up after I hit 'The End', but I just can't seem to "Let it go. Let it goooooo!"

Maybe I need a new tactic. Perhaps I should try "drunk writing" instead?

During my closet-writer years, I would often stumble home drunk from the pub, get out my notebook and pen, and scribble away (in extremely slanting, spidery writing) in the silent watches of the night. Pages and pages of "the most wonderful, perfect prose the world had never seen." (I was eighteen and still thought I knew it all. Turns out, most of what I wrote was utter drivel, but hey-ho!)

The quality of my "closet work" might have been on the iffy side, but there's no denying that my word count was positively vertiginous in those days.

Help me, drunk writing, you're my only hope!

Thing is, I'm not eighteen anymore. Half a beer-shandy these days and I'm asleep for the night. Nope. I need to come up with a better plan.

Answers on a post-it to this address please.

Enjoy the weekend. :)