NaNo Not Going Well 2021

 

Well here we go again. It’s NaNoWriMo time of year and if you don’t know what that is then you shouldn’t be reading this anyway.

I’ve tried to win NaNo every year since the stupid thing was invented. I think. I’m pretty sure anyway. Maybe a few years following it’s initial conception, but I swear I’ve been trying it every November for decades.

Trouble is, I never know what to write. That is to say, I don’t know what to write anymore. I bashed out so many books in my thirties, and I loved what I wrote then, but over time I got sick of it. My books never sold viably and that meant I felt depressed so I wrote less.

Fast forward a decade and here I am not being able to figure out what to write for NaNo. So here’s my contribution towards winning. I guess this year I’ll win by writing words about NaNo as a novel about how I can’t write a real novel!

I had some ideas like Science Fiction, but they’re all so American. 

Damn. I hate being American sometimes. I’ve been living in England for twenty frikin years and I still can’t write Britishly.

Let’s see. What’s the last thing I wrote?

Oh yes, the sequel to my first ever Science Fiction novel. Well that was fun to write, so why don’t I write another in the series and make it a trilogy? Because that’s sticking with being Americanish. I feel like I need to write in a new genre. The genre of British wit and cleverness. I mean, if GS Denning can do it as an American writing preposterous paranormal Sherlock Holmes fan fic, and make money off it, then so can I by damn!

But what to write? Should it be supernatural stuff? Again? I’ve written so much supernatural already! My sequel to the sequel is a mixture of science fiction and supernatural though. Maybe that is a sign I should write it. 

And blam! 

Suddenly I don’t need to write anything because I’m sucked into a void of words and I can’t see a damn thing.

“What’s going on?” I blink around in surprise. I don’t really know what I’m surprised at seeing as how it’s so dark, but I suppose I’m surprised that I’m even here in the first place. Wherever here just so happens to be!

I don’t know that answer to my own question of where I am, and I’m already losing my mind because of that fact.

There I was sitting in my car on the school run. I’d been passing the time on my laptop trying to write a manuscript when lo and behold the universe heard my written words and stopped me doing so.

“I knew it.” I cry in despair. “I’m not meant to write!”

I’m a total screw up and every word I put down is utter nonsense.

Well I guess I won’t be writing ever again seeing as how I no longer exist. But wait just one second. Isn’t the fact that I’m thinking about not existing, proof that I’m thinking and therefore I do exist?

There’s nothing else for me to do but contemplate random crap.

I’m stuck in utter darkness and it seems I can’t do anything about my situation.

Typical.

THE END