At least that's what I think I'm called. I signed up for National Novel Writing Month, and for the unaware, all the info you could ever want is here.
And now I'm all written out since I just produced my daily 1665 word quota on a novel that I started, oh, a couple of hours ago. I have no outline, I have no plot. A few weeks back, in preparation for this craziness, I listed a few ideas that came to my naive mind. And today, the first day of the thirty-day blitz, after a rough day at work and a nice dinner and pint of single-hop ale with my hub and a friend, I came home, looked at the list, and picked a topic. And started writing. The idea is to write 50,000 words in thirty days. Quantity counts. Quality is quite secondary.
Who knows what crap will come out of these lightning fingers. Stay tuned. It should be an interesting experience. What am I, crazy?
I live in the PNW. I recently started working from home as an ad copywriter and business writer. I was raised Catholic in a big 'ol Irish-German family. The love for beer took. The religion didn't take at all.