I’d planned to write a couple of these updates before now. Perhaps as we ease into this one, the mysteries behind their absence will reveal themselves.

I hit NaNoWriMo Day 1 with the best of intentions. It was a Monday, so I spent part of the preceding weekend thinking in the most abstract terms about what I might want to write. I did this knowing full well that no matter what I thought about, until I started tapping the keys, it didn’t matter what was going on in my head. Nothing counted until the word count moved north of zero.

What I did not realize until my fingers hit the keyboard that night is just how burned out I actually was. I was running on fumes. Actually my fumes were running on fumes, which were running on fumes of their own, which were running on whatever caffeine- and sugar-high they could squeeze out of a vintage Reggie bar someone was selling on eBay. I had nothing. And this was a special kind of nothing that I recognized from my college days. I was burnt. Toasted. And my creativity had, as they say, left the building.

This didn’t stop me from writing, of course. Days 1 and 2 followed a pattern similar to last year. Wake up, go to work, work too hard, get home late, scarf down dinner, and write 2,000 words before going to bed at an obscene hour (there have been nights when I could’ve watched the closing credits of any permutation of a Conan O’Brien show before I wrapped for the night). It was Day 3 that jumped the track.

The math of NaNoWriMo has always been deceptively simple. A 50,000-word novel in a 30-day month equals about 1,667 words per day. I’ve always aimed for 2,000, a nice round number that would help me build a cushion against future delays. The problem this time around was that on Day 3, I only wrote about 1,500 words. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a problem, but on Day 4, I was going to a concert, so there would be no time to write that day. And as it turns out, drinking your face off then dragging yourself in to work a full day does not get many creative juices flowing. Simply put, by the end of week 1, I was so many days behind I’m pretty sure I was technically already a day or two behind for next year.

To make matters worse, I quickly learned that I don’t type nearly as fast on the iPad as I thought I did. Plus, the iPhone app I’ve previously used to write short stories nom longer worked due to an update gone wrong, so there would be no catching up on the bus or during a bathroom break at work. It was bad enough I was so burned out, but now my tools of the trade were abandoning me too. It was a given that I’d have to quit. The only question was how long it would take for me to admit this.

Then things took an unexpected turn. I found a chunk of Saturday where I got to write a lot of words in a row. And the app makers sent me a code to a new version of the app that didn’t crash every time I tried to type something. I suspect the original app was updated by longtime Happy Friday readers. Combine these two events and, well, I’m still so far off pace it’s no sure bet I’ll get to 50,000 words this month, but the chances are better than they were on Friday. This is good, since I hate to quit.

I’m hoping to find time for a couple more of these updates this month to talk about the huge difference between what I’m writing this year as opposed to last year, which also helps explain why there’s a much better chance of failure this time around. Until then, here’s a really bad excerpt, so you’ll understand that the literary world won’t be missing out when this novel never gets finished:

“Kyle, thanks for coming,” Tony said. “We didn’t call you away from anything important, did we?”

“No, don’t worry, I have the time.”

“Good, good,” Tony said. “I just want to let you know, you’ve been doing a heckuva job lately. Really great. Hitting it out of the park.”

“Yeah, Kyle, the company really appreciates what you’ve been doing. Excellent job, really. Kudos.”

“Thanks,” Kyle said, unsure if he should say anything else.

“You’ve been an integral part of what we’ve accomplished the last few months,” Tony said. “Couldn’t have done it without you. You should realize that.”

“I was just doing my best,” Kyle said. “It’s the only way I know how to work.”

“Oh, yes, I know that, Kyle. You’ve been like that since we hired you, and don’t think it’s gone unnoticed. You work hard and you get the job done. That’s the kind of thing we appreciate around here,” Tony said.

“No doubt,” Paul added.

They shared the same bland smile too, which Kyle wasn’t expecting. He looked down at the blank page of his notebook and then back at his boss, whose expression was unchanging.

“Thanks,” Kyle said.

“You should know this,” Tony said. “Too often, especially in today’s environment, we don’t let you guys know that we appreciate your efforts, and we really should.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s something we need to do more often.”

“Really? Wow. Thanks again. I have to say, when I got your email I was sure you were going to lay me off.”

“Oh, we are,” Paul said. “But we thought you should know how much you’re appreciated around here.”

“What? Appreciated? How is this showing me that?”

“Well, in a perfect world, we would have had this conversation a few weeks ago,” Paul said. “That’s what we need to get better at. The timing.”

“I can’t believe this. I thought we were done with this.”

“We are now,” Tony said.

“Not to sound like too much of a ghoulish ass, but I really thought that after Rudy died, we’d get a break from all this.”

“If only it were that simple,” Paul said.

“This has nothing to do with your work, Kyle,” Tony said. “This is just a math thing. We had to get the group under twelve, that’s all. It’s just math.”

Kyle had always hated math, and this wasn’t going to improve that relationship. It took him another couple of seconds to work through the list of his immediate coworkers to come up with a number already less than twelve.

“But without Rudy, we’re there right now,” he said.

“We’re keeping Rudy,” Tony said.

“How can that be? He’s dead.”

“Yes, that’s true. But Rudy’s a rock around here. He’s done amazing work for us. You know that. You learned from him. We all did. That’s not a resource we can just walk away from,” Tony said.

“Walk away from? He died. How are you walking away from anything?”

“We just want to respect the man,” Tony said. “He’s got an enviable work ethic. His attendance record is impeccable.”

“Not anymore,” Kyle said.

“Kyle, that’s hurtful, and frankly beneath you,” Tony said. “Rudy gave his all to this company. He had his surprise heart attack while working at his desk after hours. How do we just forget about all that just because Rudy’s dead? He’s left behind a legacy, Kyle. We have to honor the legacy.”

“But he’s dead. I have three projects due this week. How is Rudy’s legacy going to help finish those?”

“That’s something I’m going to have to figure out,” Tony said. “Of course I’d rather have you here to finish those off, but we can’t just walk away from a resource as important as Rudy.”

“If anyone walked away, Rudy did. Except he didn’t walk away. They wheeled him out. I was here. I saw it.”

“Kyle, please, don’t be rude. Have some respect,” Paul said.

“I just don’t understand. I’m a living, breathing man who can bang out those three projects in a couple of days. I don’t understand how I can lose out to a guy who died two weeks ago. Can you understand why I might have a problem with that?”

“Fair enough,” Paul said. “Just please believe me when I tell you that Rudy brings some intangibles to the table.”

“intangibles?”

“Yes, intangibles. This decision wasn’t made lightly. It was very close. We almost chose you.”

“Oh, good, I came in a close second to a corpse. Is there any chance I can get that written in a letter of recommendation? That’s bound to get me lots of interest out there.”

“Kyle, really. Have some respect,” Paul said.

“Respect, really? Why don’t you have some respect for me, Paul? You tell me you think I’m a good worker, so why not pick me over the dead guy? Maybe Rudy has intangibles, but at this point I’ve gotta beat him in tangibles, right?”

Tony chuckled. “That’s actually pretty funny,” he said to no one in particular.

Paul sighed and leaned forward until he was slumped on his forearms, which were crossed over each other on the table. He shook his head just enough to be noticed.
“You have to understand something, Kyle,” he said. “Your group has to have fewer than twelve people in it. There’s no way around it. That’s the new company policy. Non-negotiable. However, on the flip side, you can’t have fewer than ten. This is an old guideline and for now it’s equally non-negotiable. We’d love for you to be one of those less-than-twelve, more-than-ten, but there are a couple of reasons why Rudy is the better bet right now.”

“Seriously?”

“For one, Rudy no longer draws a salary,” Paul said. “That’s a huge savings right there. No salary, no retirement withholding, no taxes paid because of him. And even more important than that, Rudy doesn’t need any health benefits. That’s another huge savings right there.”

“It’s not a really good health plan,” Tony said. “I’m not sure if you ever had a reason to find that out, but it costs you and the company a ridiculous amount of money any time you have a health issue. So this is potentially huge.”

“Maybe if the health care plan was better, Rudy wouldn’t have died in the first place and you wouldn’t have to use his corpse as a way to save money on it,” Kyle said.

“We’re aware of the irony, yes,” Paul said. “But in the current economic climate, Rudy’s a better employee dead than you are alive.”

Kyle looked again at the blank page in his notebook and saw that it now mirrored his immediate future — big and empty. He wanted to take his pen and slash through this depressing page, but his arms were frozen from the shock he was still experiencing. His hands began to shake so he pulled them under the table to make sure no one could see.
“Is there any math that swings things back in my favor?”

“You’re single, right?”

“I live with my girlfriend.”

“Kids?”

“Not now.”

“You own your house?”

“Rent.”

“Any credit card debt? Other loans? Gambling habit?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Are you prone to sickness?”

“No more than average.”

“I see.” Paul looked off into space as if he were calculating something in his head. After a few quick seconds he snapped back to reality and shook his head.

“Sorry, but no, there’s no way. Rudy saves more money than you bring in. We have to go with him. We’ll provide a generous severance, though. It’s more than Rudy got.”

“That seems fair. Rudy left on his own. He didn’t deserve a severance,” Tony said.

“Good point,” Paul said. He looked back at Kyle. “See, Rudy isn’t getting the best deal either. These things happen.”

“This? This insanity never happened anywhere else, I can promise you that.”

“Kyle, I’m really sorry it didn’t work out. You’re a good worker. You have lots to offer plenty of other companies.”

“Not as much as Rudy,” Kyle said.

“Fair enough,” Paul said.

“I bet you do better on an interview, though,” Tony said.

“Oh good, there’s the second paragraph of my recommendation. This thing just writes itself.”

“I’m real sorry, Kyle,” Tony said. “If things get better out there, I’d hire you back in an instant.”

“Could I work for Rudy?”

“That would be up to him, I suppose.”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Kyle said as he pushed back from the table.

“We still have to work out things like your severance and your last day,” Paul said.

“This is my last day. And you can mail the severance to my house.”

“There’s also some paperwork to sign.”

“What do I have to sign? You guys just gave me the boot. Do I have to sign my approval of that boot?”

“It’s boilerplate.”

“Did Rudy have to sign it?”

“Kyle, this is not your finest hour,” Tony said.

“No kidding,” Kyle said. “Mail me whatever you need me to sign. If the check’s big enough, I’ll sign it.” He backed toward the door, leaving behind his notebook, since it was technically company property.

“Kyle, I was serious about hiring you back,” Tony said. “A couple of months, this all blows over and I’ll give you a call.”

“That sounds great, Tony. Should I send my resume to the morgue or the cemetery? Which one makes it more likely I’ll get rehired?”

Tony shook his head and sighed. “Good luck, Kyle.”

Who doesn’t love the smell of first draft in the morning? I’d better figure out how to get some vampires in there soon or I’m screwed. Thanks for reading. Be back soon.