If you understand nothing else, understand how much I hate to quit. How much I hate to quit just about anything, really (though I’ll admit to enjoying it when I’ve quit a couple of jobs during my career, including probably one more than most of you realize…). It’s just not in my nature to quit easily, and I’ve fought some damn stupid fights for some really lost causes in my day. I don’t even regret most of them, because fighting’s better than quitting.
That said, there are some realities that even I won’t fight, and so it’s time to face the fact that this year, NaNoWriMo kicked my ass. Kicked it worse than the Patriots handing a beatdown to the Jets.
For the uninitiated, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. The goal is simple — write a 50,000-word novel in the month of November, win nothing but the feeling of accomplishment at actually writing a book in 30 days. I’ve tried it several times and I’ve won more often than not. But not this year, no sir. This year I suffered a good old-fashioned ass whupping.
I knew it was coming too. Could see it real clear real early, but I had to try anyway. The storm threw me off pace at the start. Not because my house was damaged or anything — I was real lucky there — but because I took in some displaced house guests and, most importantly, I was stuck working from home for that first week. So much of my NaNoWriMo writing gets done during my daily commute and I didn’t have one of those for nearly a week. And when I finally did, those buses were too crowded to get much done.
I think by the end of Day 1, I was about 1,000 words off pace. Turns out that was the closest to being on schedule I was ever gonna get this month. I was still making a decent effort, though, until my trip to Disney. That’s what blew the whole plan out of the water, and if I had any sense in my head I would’ve figured it out by my second day in Florida. I didn’t figure it out, and instead still was making an effort when I got back. Even after barely writing 1,000 words that whole week, somehow I thought I could still pull this off.
So today, I quit. No NaNoWriMo book for me this year. The idea I was working on was halfway decent. It had some potential. I could’ve done something with it under better circumstances. Don’t believe me? Here’s the first paragraph that I came up with late on November 1:

I spoke to the doctor after the storm and he gave me the worst news I could’ve imagined. He told me I was fine. Perfectly healthy for a man of my age and station. Which meant I was gonna have to find another way out. You see, I couldn’t just leave. Couldn’t just quit. If I wanted out there was only one way to do it — feet first in a box. And the doctor’s report wasn’t cooperating.

This narrator was caught up in a bad real estate deal. Oddly enough, a couple of days in I decided it was the same real estate deal that was a major plot point of another NaNoWriMo book I wrote several years ago. That year I hit the word count but never got to the ending. Maybe this real estate plot point is cursed and I should stop trying to use it. Maybe some day I’ll crack the code and end up with two semi-connected novels to sell. You just can never tell, which is why I do any of this to begin with. And since after a few pages I dragged in a character from last year’s winning NaNoWroMo novel, I could end up with 3 books. Or not.
As lousy as it feels to quit, it’s a little easier this time because I’ve already got a December deadline for something I think I can sell, and selling’s better than fighting’s better than quitting. Plus, I’ve got 2 other plans in the pipeline that might get me 2 more sales in the first half of 2013. I wouldn’t say no to either one.
I’m not used to quitting, so I’m not quite sure how to end this. Maybe with the last couple of paragraphs before I pulled the plug. In the end I kind of want to know what happens to my main character, so maybe I won’t leave him here. I hope not, anyway. I hate walking away from something like this, a mere 12,752 words into a 50,000 word story:

Jim crossed the room with careful steps. His head swiveled as he tried to see everything at once as he approached the stairway. He peered up into the blackness and frowned. Then he rapped the flashlight against the wooden bannister. The hollow metal-on-wood sound rang out.
“Anybody here?” he called. “Anybody need help?” He banged the flashlight twice more. “Anybody here who doesn’t belong?”
“You think that will work?”
“Might trick one of the dumber ones,” Jim said with a shrug. “Wait here. I’ll check upstairs.”
“No, this is my thing. I’ll go with you.”
“Suit yourself.”
Jim aimed the flashlight beam up the stairs. We could see nothing but dirty carpet and a blank wall at the top. I remembered a large framed painting up there, but it was gone now. Jim started up with slow, careful steps and I followed. The steps were slippery so I grabbed the bannister for support.

And that’s all there is. There ain’t no more. To be honest, I’ve got no idea who’s up those stairs. I’d like to find out, but that’s not gonna happen this month. November kicked my ass. Let’s see if I’ve got a comeback in me for December. Like the song says…

There ain’t no shame
In just giving up and walking away
Walking away
In just giving up
In just giving up
And walking away

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