Last year, Sherri took part in NaNoWriMo and actually wrote a novel (which I read). She told me that I'd do it next year. (Apparently I had no choice in the matter.) Well, I planned on doing it, I really did, but work dragged me into the depths of misery and apathy, so I decided not to do it. I felt guilty about deciding not to do it, but since I was running out of time, I really didn't feel too bad. And then suddenly last night I decided to do it. So I signed up. Now I have to write a 50,000 word draft in a goddamn month. That month starts in a little over a week. I have no idea what the hell I'm going to write about. Plus, I'm illiterate!
I'm counting on all four of my regular readers to heap abuse on me (I mean more abuse than normal) if I fail.