Allow me to count the ways I love NaNoWriMo:

One – I wrote 5,000 words yesterday; I am still riding the high. There is a effervescence of spirit that comes from writing.  Words arrive in a pell-mell rush which my brain regurgitates onto a screen.  (Hopefully in a shape that vaguely resembles what I see and hear behind my eyes.) This is the honeymoon period after the storm of words and before the tempest that is self-doubt and editing—the halcyon days of loving your creation.*

Two – Yesterday I sent my heroine on an adventure. There was a horse, of course. And plastic fruit and a tragedy for the hydrangeas—though now I am thinking petunias might be a funnier flower.

Three – I brought frenemies together and then forced them to climb deadwood to safety—only to fall like tumbling blocks—spelling out embarrassment and trouble in their awkward landing.

Four – I have yet to release the monkey—but I am cackling in anticipation.

Five – Today I rest while Officer Dettweiler removes the thorns—one prick at a time.

Six – And I haven’t decided who is getting the spring-loaded trap the heroine left for her anonymous hero. Perhaps the busybody Mrs. Bridewell is going to get her just desserts at the Fudge Festival after all?

Seven – I have no regrets, except that this pace can only be maintained for so long. Sooner or later, something is going to explode—most likely the laundry room.**

Asterisk Bedazzled Footnotes:

*At least, I think this is caused by the writing. It could be the lack of sleep and caffeine talking, now that I think of it.

**I plan on blaming the monkey.