At the halfway point of NaNoWriMo, I breached 2/5 of my target word count. I don't know what my exact stats are for years past, but I think I've done better and worse. Yesterday also marked the end of the month's second story, since I'm pacing them out at about 10,000 words each. I've done a bit of hemming and hawing about what my next story should be--should I do my next clearest idea or save that one for the end, when I'll be rushed? I decided to fall back on the maxim to write today's best idea today and trust that you'll come up with tomorrow's idea tomorrow. So I will have to trust.
That is, if I ever get as far as tomorrow. Today so far (I say at a quarter to ten p.m.) has consisted of me waking up at one in the afternoon, Girlfriend reassuring me that I shouldn't feel guilty because I'm probably sick (and probably have been sick all week), walking out to get lunch (which turned out to be dinner), and reading a fat chunk of Stephen King's On Writing, which is not the same thing as writing at all. It has, at least, made me glad that I am not an alcoholic, which is something I had never thought to be thankful for before.
I just realized that the two stories I have just written, and the one I intend to start imminently, are all science fiction, as opposed to the fantasy that has been my style so far. Not that the borders between the two genres are well guarded anymore, but it is strange to look behind you and see a boundary.
